Someone I've Been Missing, The Better Half of Me
by K'sChoiceofAFI
Summary: AU/Future fic. Quinn, a rising sophomore in college, meets Rachel for the first time just before the school term begins. An argument between them leaves Rachel wanting nothing more than to forget that Quinn even exists. But Quinn has other plans.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Someone I've Been Missing (The Better Half of Me)

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU/Future fic. Quinn, a rising sophomore in college, meets Rachel for the first time just before the school term begins. An argument between them leaves Rachel wanting nothing more than to forget that Quinn even exists. But she soon finds out that she can't get rid of the determined blonde that easily.

A/N 1: I thought I was done writing Faberry, but they're just such a dynamic pairing. This fic is just a compilation of any and all fluffy ideas I have about them. But I promise there's a plot…somewhere.

A/N 2: I will be doing my best to update this weekly. Classes should be over within the next two months so I'll be able to devote more time to this.

A/N 3: I really hope you guys like it! Um, I like reviews and feedback and if you have any questions or concerns then you can shoot me a message. I don't bite, I promise. 

* * *

In Quinn Fabray's opinion, there's nothing worse than having to show up at school three weeks early to be put through six hours of cheering conditioning a day just to make sure everyone's whipped back into shape by the time school starts. She'd thought that once she left high school that she'd finally be rid of strict practice schedules and a no nonsense coach, but she was wrong. Her current coach, the number one coach on the east coast, Sue Sylvester, was nothing like the coach she had in high school. In fact, she was worse.

"Well, that was just repugnant," Sue barks into her megaphone, glaring at her cheerleaders. "Q! I didn't make you top dog in this squad just for you to turn it to atrophy like your muscles after summer break!"

She hears a snicker from her left and Quinn turns around to glare at her best friend and roommate, Santana Lopez. "That's why I should have been captain," she mutters so only Quinn can hear, smirking in her direction.

"Maybe if you didn't spend your whole summer fucking everything that moved you wouldn't have tanked during your try out for the spot," Quinn instantly fires back. Santana inclines her head in the blonde's direction as if to say "Touché" before turning back to their coach.

Quinn makes sure to wipe the grin off her face as she turns back to coach Sylvester, sprinting off the field when they're finally released for showers.

Before they even get through the threshold of the locker room both girls are swept up into a huge hug that borders on painful in Quinn's opinion.

"San! Q! I'm so glad you see you guys again!" Brittany gushes as she releases the two girls.

Santana reaches up to peck the girl lightly on the lips. "Missed you too, B. Where were you anyway?"

Brittany links their pinkies together and smiles adoringly at Santana. "I couldn't practice today because coach said so. I had to go get physical with the doctor to be able to be on the squad this year."

Quinn turns toward her locker before opening it, trying not to laugh at the dubious expression on Santana's face but failing miserably. Earning her a glare.

She turns back to Brittany, looking a little confused. "You mean you had to _get a physical_ and not _get physical_, right, Brit-Brit?"

"Sure okay," Brittany says a shrug, not really noticing a difference between the two phrases. "Come on, San, let's take a shower!" she says excitedly.

Santana smirks at the blonde before giving Quinn a pat on the shoulder. "Later, loser. Brits and I gots to get our mack on."

Quinn shakes her head in disbelief as she watches her two friends run toward the showers, their giggling only dying down once they're out of sight.

She closes her locker and opts out of taking a shower in the locker room, preferring to use the showers in her dorm hall, complete with less moaning.

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she walks out of the locker room, treading tiredly back to her dorm. The long hours that she spends cheering genuinely annoy her, but Quinn has always had an affinity towards the sport. Whether she likes the physical challenge, the short skirts that catch the attention the guys _and _the girls, or whether she just simply likes the power trip of being in charge, Quinn isn't sure. But she's sure that she likes cheering.

"Hi, Quinn," a shy voice calls to her and Quinn breaks out of her thoughts of a relaxing shower to look at whoever greeted her.

She smiles slyly before giving the brunette a leisurely wave. "Hi, Ashley," she purrs in return. She and Ashley have hooked up a couple of times, not that anyone would know that because Quinn keeps her trysts with anyone in the school private. They're casual, but always private. No one knows about what she does behind closed doors and she keeps it that way. Her smile broadens as she walks away from the girl, feeling her eyes on her ass as she gives an extra sway to her hips, the pleats on her cheerleading skirt swishing back and forth. Yes, being a cheerleader has its perks.

But it's been an uphill battle for her to balance Cheerios, the squad's name, and school. In high school, balancing being a cheerleader and a scholar in school was seen as an accomplishment. But here, in college, you were either fully committed to the books and didn't play a sport, opting for theater or something else artsy as an extracurricular, or you were in the jock archetype and didn't do well in school at all, simply passing along with mediocre grades to be able to play in the next big game.

Quinn, however, did both. And she did it well. Balancing a near 4.0 GPA and the Cheerios squad placed Quinn in a category all her own. She was a jock yes, but she was also studious, proving to professors and judgemental peers alike that jocks were more than capable of passing college courses with grades that were better than simply mediocre.

"Ow, fuck!" she exclaims, body propelling backwards from the momentum of bumping into someone. She silently chastises herself for not paying attention.

"Sorry," the girl she's hit mutters before giving a loud huff, crouching on the ground to retrieve her fallen items.

"It's okay," Quinn murmurs distractedly, wondering who the girl is. Normally if this were to happen on this side of campus, the sophomore dorms where Quinn has more clout, the offender would be apologizing profusely to Quinn, practically begging for forgiveness.

"You must be new," Quinn says a little louder before bending down and picking up one of the girl's books. She rocks back on her heels to stand up right at the same time the girl does. She's unrecognizable. Quinn takes in the girl's incredibly short stature, long dark brown hair, strong, high cheekbones, full pink lips, and dark eyes that barely contain the girl's annoyance. Quinn tilts her head a little. The girl is beautiful…but utterly unrecognizable. And her outfit isn't particularly fashionable but Quinn approves of the short skirt.

"No, I'm not actually," she replies, making a show of holding her hand out and waiting for Quinn to hand the book back.

"So then you know who I am," Quinn states, forgetting about the book in her hands. She lets it fall to her side, more concerned about the beauty in front of her that doesn't seem to give a damn about who she is.

The girl blows out a quick stream of air in exasperation before gracefully placing a lose lock of hair behind her ear. Quinn watches her every move with piercing eyes. "I do not know who you are," she states evenly. "And please forgive my rudeness but at the moment I do not care to. I'm late for an appointment that simply cannot wait. So if you would kindly hand me that book in your hand I can be on my way."

Quinn's eyes widen at the girl's boldness, her almost crash way of handling her without seemingly a care in the world. She wants to be angry, but she can't find it in herself to be. She is, however, a little annoyed.

"Are you a sophomore?" she questions, looking around to make sure, yep, this is definitely the part of campus where sophomores are housed. And Quinn isn't so full of herself to think that _everyone _on campus should be able to put her name with her face, but the sophomores sure can. All of them.

"Junior," the girl replies flatly. "Now, if you'd please…" she trails off, eyes falling from Quinn's own to the book she has in her hand.

She switches the book from her right hand to her left, chuckling inwardly at the girl's sigh of annoyance before extending her now unoccupied hand. "I'm Quinn Fabray," she replies.

Brown eyes stare at her hand curiously before giving it a quick shake. "I would say it's a pleasure meeting you, Quinn, but you seem arrogant, presumptuous, and a tad annoying," the girl says honestly as she releases her hold on Quinn's hand.

Her eyes narrow as she snorts indelicately at the barrage of insults from that single statement. "Isn't it presumptuous to assume all of those things about me? I mean, this is our first time meeting and let's be honest; you haven't exactly been the poster child for great manners either."

"Yes, perhaps I should apologize," she muses without actually verbalizing an apology. "But you see I'd already told you what –five whole minutes ago that I was late. I also told you that I do not like being late under any circumstances. And instead of handing me my book so that I could be on my way, you started a meaningless conversation with me because your ego took a hit because of the simple fact that I have no idea who you are."

"What are you doing here anyway?" Quinn asks rudely.

"I have a friend that lives in these dorms," she responds a little too haughtily for Quinn's taste.

She arches a perfect eyebrow as she regards the shorter girl. "So you have a friend that lives in these dorms, but you don't know me?" she asks doubtfully. "_All _of the sophomores know me."

"_And_?" she asks with a shrug. "You act as if every conversation a sophomore would have is just dripping with the words 'Quinn Fabray'. Not everything is about you apparently because I for one have never heard of you before this terrible encounter."

Quinn is beside herself, gritting her teeth in sheer annoyance at the audacity of the girl in front of her. How dare she talk to her that way? "You know what?" she growls. "Take your book." She practically shoves it in the girl's direction and it's plucked from her hand without a single word.

Without another glance, the girl walks past Quinn, grumbling about how late she is for her appointment.

"Wait," Quinn calls as she spins around to face the girl.

Her shoulders tense and Quinn watches with no small amount of amusement how the hand not curled protectively around her books tightens into a fist. She's glad that this annoying girl is as irritated as she is.

Quinn steps a little closer to get privacy, glad that the campus is nearly empty since the school term hasn't officially started yet. "I didn't get your name," she says, feigning disinterest.

A loud, boisterous laugh from the shorter girl startles Quinn into taking a few steps back. She folds her arms tightly across her chest and cocks her hip to the side, wondering just what the hell is so funny.

The girl wipes a tear from her eye, staring at Quinn with a smile. "Not everyone likes to be so well known like you do, Fabray," she says snippily. "Just call me anonymous."

She spins on her heel and walks away without a backwards glance and Quinn's left wondering if she feels more angry…or intrigued. 

* * *

"Brit's staying over tonight," Santana says around a mouthful of potato chips. She flips through channels on their TV before hoisting her legs up on the table, sinking back into the couch.

Quinn walks into their common space with a frown on her face. "You give a new meaning to the term couch potato," she quips, not commenting on the Brittany staying over thing because they've both had their fair share of company over. It's nothing new to them anymore. The fact that Santana mentioned it is simply for Quinn to be prepared for if she wakes up at three in the morning to go to the restroom and sees Brittany sleep walking…naked.

"Keep it up and I'll give a new meaning to the term man-slaughter," Santana says dryly from her spot on the couch.

Quinn flops down on the other couch, watching TV but not really paying attention as her thoughts drift back to that girl she met outside the dorms. It still makes Quinn's blood boil, even after she took a shower to calm herself down and took a nap right afterwards. The insulting remarks that fell from the girl's lips, and Quinn admits, they were pretty lips. Pink, and pouting. And Quinn recalls with amusement that at one point the girl really _was _pouting because of how annoyed she had been with Quinn. But still, Quinn didn't really appreciate what was said to her and how it was said.

"Do you think I'm arrogant?" she asks, removing her eyes from the TV screen to look at Santana.

Santana guffaws, nearly choking on a potato chip that sends Quinn into a fit of giggles. "Not only are you arrogant," Santana grips. "You're annoying, pig headed, over bearing–"

"I'm serious."

"No, you're not arrogant." Santana rolls her eyes. She hates having to placate Quinn because that always means she has to show feelings which she doesn't particularly like to do. "Where's all this coming from? A few hours ago you were all up in my grill about how I didn't make captain because I was fucking too many people to even concentrate on being ready to try out. Which, by the way, you were eating slut's pussy over the summer too so I don't even want to hear that again."

Quinn blushes all the way up to her hairline and the tips of her ears at the obscene comment., coughing into her hand to avoid how awkward she felt. "They weren't sluts," she mutters.

"What-the-fuck-ever. Point is, I wasn't the only one getting busy," she says to make her point. "Now anyway, back to the matter at hand. What the hell has you all in your feelings?" she coos in a way she knows embarrasses Quinn. "Who made big bad Quinn feel all bad about herself?"

Quinn blushes even harder at how ridiculous that whole situation sounds coming from Santana's mouth in that tone of voice. "Nothing, it's stupid. I just…there was a junior outside the dorms and she called me arrogant. Among other things," she grumbles the last part.

Santana snickers at the disgruntled look on Quinn's face. "Why would she do that?" she questions, dying to know how and why this mystery woman told Quinn off.

Quinn scowls at her friend's obvious enjoyment out of what Quinn can officially call the worst eight minutes of her life before continuing. "Well, I ran into her outside the dorms and we got to talking and she told me she didn't know who I was. So then–"

"Let me guess," Santana drawls. "You got all bitchy with her because she didn't know who you were."

Quinn nods.

"But she surprised you," she continues, "with some bitchiness of her own. So the two of you met in a battle of wills. Two bitchy bitches bitching each other out," she finishes with a laugh.

She sighs at how stupid it now sounds, hanging her head in defeat. "That's pretty much how it happened," she mutters.

"Face it, Q," Santana says from her spot on the couch. "You met your match and now you're in here sulking because instead of being the kiss ass you were expecting, she put you back in your place faster than your own mother could."

"I just…she didn't have to be such a bitch."

"And why not?" Santana asks. "You were being a bitch."

"I wasn't–"

"Quinn, I know you. I'm pretty sure that you were giving her attitude."

Rubbing the back of her neck, she sinks back into her seat. "Should I apologize?"

Santana snorts out a laugh at the very idea. "Don't you dare. Seriously, I'll make fun of you forever if you do that. Just let it go. This is a big school and on top of that she's a junior. I really don't think you'll see her very much again. I mean, you didn't even know she existed until today, right?"

"Yeah."

"And she _clearly _didn't know you existed until a few hours ago," she snarkily replies, watching Quinn sink further into her seat. "So, no big deal. Let it go. And make me a sandwich."

Quinn leaps up out of her seat, nodding at Santana's advice before she heads toward the door.

"Hey," Santana calls loudly after her. "I said make me a sandwich!"

"I'm not your bitch!" Quinn calls just as loudly as she makes it to the door.

"Where are you going anyway?" Santana asks with a raised eyebrow.

Quinn smiles slyly at her before opening the door. "Ashley's," she says to her before walking out. 

* * *

For the first time in her life, Quinn can say that Santana was right. It had been three weeks and she hadn't seen the brunette that she ran into at all. It was both relieving and a little unnerving. It was as if the Heavens opened up and dropped the girl down for that one blindingly irritating instant before the earth swallowed her whole. Quinn knew she was being irrational. As Santana said, it was a big school and the girl was a junior. The chance of the two of them crossing paths again was slim to none. But still…

"'Sup, hottie," she hears growled into her ear as her eyes are covered by two large hands. Quinn would normally be alarmed but the voice was too familiar and could only belong to one person.

"What, Puck?" she demands and the boy in question sucks his teeth at being caught before sitting in front of her. They're in the dining hall, in the section that clearly belongs to jocks as Quinn looks around to see large, defined muscles of the football and basketball players peppered in with the lithe, flexible bodies of the cheerleaders.

He plops down in the seat in front of her before taking his burger out of its wrapper. "Nothing much," he says before taking a bite that leaves him with only half a burger. "Just saying hi to my future baby mama."

She smirks at him, her eyes smoldering and she knows by the look on his face that his pants are already getting tighter. "You're not my type." He coughs out the remainder of his food and Quinn giggles a little before sliding out of her seat.

"Hold on, gorgeous," Puck calls to her before she walks away. She turns back around to look at him. "Party tonight. I got the booze."

She bites her lip in contemplation before releasing it with a smile. "See you later," she says as she walks away.

She passes by Santana and Brittany as they walk over to the table, glaring back at Santana after receiving a particularly hard slap on the ass.

Finding her target, Quinn closes in on a studious looking brunette, sitting by herself at a table. "Chloe," she says warmly.

Said girl looks up at her, removing the glasses from her face with a smile. "Quinn."

She leans forward, blonde hair falling alluringly around her shoulders as she smiles at the girl. "How would you like to go to a party with me tonight?" she asks, staring intently at the girl.

Chloe blushes at the blonde before diverting her eyes. "You know I don't do parties, Quinn."

"Come on," she coaxes gently. "It'll be a good way to unwind before the stress of the semester rolls around in just a mere three days."

Her eyes watch Chloe intently as she brunette mulls over the idea. She nods with a smile a moment later and Quinn internally smirks at her victory. "Okay, Quinn."

"Thanks, sweetie," Quinn says in a sugar coated voice before walking off, leaving the other girl a blushing mess at the table. She's determined to blow off some steam before school starts. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Someone I've Been Missing (The Better Half of Me)

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU/Future fic. Quinn, a rising sophomore in college, meets Rachel for the first time just before the school term begins. An argument between them leaves Rachel wanting nothing more than to forget that Quinn even exists. But she soon finds out that she can't get rid of the determined blonde that easily.

A/N 1: If the title of the fic sounds familiar to anyone, it's a variation of OneRepublic's lyrics in the song _"Come Home"_.

A/N 2:Just wanted to clarify a few things since I forgot to put them in the A/N's of the first chapter. NYU (the setting of the fic) offers apartment style dorms. Most of the characters have that type of dorm style so I'll be using the words apartment and dorm interchangeably. Just wanted to point that out before I make it seem like they live in two different places or something. Also, I decided to keep the name Cheerios as the name for the NYU squad because (I think the name is cute) I wanted the fic to have as many qualities from Glee as possible while still being an AU/Future fic.

A/N 3: Thank you everyone that reviewed last chapter! And Laurie (anon): That was indeed Rachel. :) She officially gets introduced this chapter.

* * *

Quinn awakes for her first day of classes to see dark brown locks splayed across her pillow cases. She licks her lips as she recalls memories from the night before. Chuckling to herself, she silently slides out of bed so as not to wake its occupant. Grabbing her toothbrush and a wash cloth she silently creeps to the bathroom, grateful that Santana spent the night at Brittany's.

"Morning, whore."

…Or so she thought.

"Shut up," she whispers harshly, making no attempt to cover her naked form as she walks to the bathroom. She brushes her teeth before letting the hot water of the shower wash over her aching muscles. Cheerios practice was still intense and her little romp in the sack last night didn't help matters.

She walks back into her room to notice her companion is gone. Shrugging it off, she gets dressed before meeting Santana in the kitchen.

"You sure do have a type," Santana comments as she flips a pancake in the pan she's holding. "Well, in girls anyway. I never understood your type in guys in high school. I mean you went from good guy, to bad boy, to that blonde kid that everyone swore was your twin brother. Actually…I think I started that rumor."

"What are you talking about?" Quinn asks around a yawn as she stretches languidly, hands reaching for the ceiling.

"Studious, brunette, shorter than you. Your type of girl." she replies, ticking off her fingers one by one as she names the qualities. "You only almost veered from those characteristics one time and that was when you, me, and B almost had that threesome."

"She would have been my first blonde," Quinn says reverently to piss Santana off. It works as she narrowly misses being wacked upside the head. "What?" she shrugs with a laugh. "_You _were the one who suggested it."

"We were drunk!" Santana exclaims in self-defense. "Everything sounds better when you're drunk!"

"You were crying!" Quinn replies with laugh. "Britt…I really want…to have this threesome," she mocks, voice hitching to imitate Santana from that night.

"Don't mention that again," Santana threatens, pointing a spatula in Quinn's direction.

Quinn shrugs as she reaches on top of the refrigerator to retrieve a box of cereal. "All I know is that I'm never having sex with either one of you separately _or_ together. I've accidently walked in on you two more times than I care to say and some of the things the two of you do…" she trails off, shuddering at the memory. "It's not human."

"Sure, Quinn. You 'accidently' walked in on us five times."

"Put a sign on your door or something!"

"Or maybe you could try this radical idea of knocking!"

"I'm not arguing with you this early," she says as she takes her bowl of cereal into the living room. She grabs the remote and then starts flipping through channels, looking for _The Price is Right_.

"Wrong, Q," Santana calls from behind her in the kitchen. "We're about to start arguing again because I wants to get my morning cartoons on!"

* * *

Quinn takes one last look at her schedule before looking up at the classroom number. Room 326. This is definitely the one. She walks into her business class and is met with a couple of smiles and a few indifferent glances from upper classmen. She shrugs it off, but one exaggerated eye roll catches her attention.

She makes a bee line for a familiar pair of dark eyes and tan skin and sits right beside the girl.

"Hi, anonymous," she greets warmly, taking the girl by surprise at her tone. "Fancy meeting you again."

"What are you doing here?" she asks. "This is a three hundred level course. And no offense to you but I don't think you belong here."

"None taken," she replies easily. "And I actually do belong. I took the hundred level course at a community college my senior year in high school." She smiles smugly at the obvious surprise swirling in the pair of dark eyes staring back at her. "Took two hundred level last year, and here I am this year. Business is my major."

"I see," she replies quietly before facing forward.

Quinn frowns. She didn't expect the conversation to end so quickly. And she doesn't know why but she's kind of disappointed.

"So…" she drawls. "Can I get your name, anonymous?"

Quinn watches a small, teasing smile grace those full, pink lips and she unconsciously licks her own. "No, Quinn. I don't believe you can."

"Now you're just being annoying," she says with a frown.

The girl's eyes shine with mirth as she turns back to the blonde. "Gee Quinn, you sure know how to talk to a girl," she comments. She eyes the professor as he finally walks in, sighing in relief.

"Oh baby, of course I know how to talk to a girl," she says, voice instantly sultry as she reflexively flirts with the older girl beside her.

"Don't call me baby," she snaps back with a scowl before turning to face forward once more. Quinn winces, both at her scathing tone and her own flirting. Sometimes she really does go too far. She blames it on her roommate. Being friends with Santana since middle school has caused the brunette to rub off on her. Quinn never noticed it in high school because she was kept under the strict thumb of her parents. She didn't even think about sex or relationships that much. She wasn't even aware that she was attracted to women, or at least wasn't ready to admit it, until Santana stepped in and offered what she called her 'assistance'. So when she came to college and was surrounded by nothing but sex and alcohol, and not only women, but women that seemed to have no qualms about being with other women, she was instantly entranced. She never let her grades suffer and, to everyone outside of Santana and Brittany, she was the perfect angel that made the perfect grades. But in her free time, she did manage to chase a skirt or two.

"I'm sorry," she mutters. "I didn't mean to flirt with you."

She receives a curt nod in return and that's the last time the girl pays her any attention for the entire class.

Quinn lets her be and instead focuses on taking notes written on the board. Truth be told, she finds all of her business classes really interesting. Something about owning her own business one day speaks to Quinn. She honestly thinks that it's the aspect of having so many people under her that have to do as she says, but she'd also like to think that she's just naturally shrewd and has a knack for this profession.

Her eyes stray from the board to _Anonymous' _–she snorts. That girl sure does know how to annoy her– notebook as the girl quickly scribbles her notes down, dark, focused eyes darting from the board to her own paper and never once veering off course. Quinn smiles a little at how stiff the girl's posture is in her seat, back completely erect and head held high. Her lips are pressed firmly together, only parting to give Quinn a glimpse of her pink tongue barely poking out. Quinn's eyes soften with mirth as she takes in the girl's concentrated face. She passes a fleeting glance over her neatly written notes before returning back to her own, brows furrowing as she silently judges her own hand writing.

"Alright, that's it for the day," the professor, Mr. Johnson, says as he dismisses the class. "Next time we actually get to crack open those hundred dollar books you all bought," he jokes.

The girl quickly gathers her things to make a hasty exit but Quinn's hand grips her wrist lightly. "Wait," she says quietly.

Deep, brown eyes stare at their point of contact before meeting Quinn's eyes. "Is there something I can do for you, Quinn?"

Quinn uses her unoccupied hand to grab her bag and sling it over her shoulder, taking a step closer to the enigmatic girl. "If you won't tell me your name, will you at least tell me your major? I think it's only fair considering you know my name, the building I live in, and my major by now and I know nothing about you."

"Why do you care?" the girl asks carefully and the question catches Quinn off guard.

"I don't know," she replies honestly.

The girl bites her lip in contemplation as she continues to stare at Quinn. She pulls her hand back and turns to walk away. "Theater," she calls over her shoulder. "With a concentration in acting."

Quinn follows her to the door, nearly running into the smaller girl as she turns around. "And my name is Rachel. Rachel Berry."

A huge smile graces Quinn's features as she extends her hand. "Can I walk you to class, Rachel?" she asks, rolling the girl's name around her tongue, tasting it.

Rachel studies her carefully, eyes narrowing briefly. "This is a far cry from how rude you were the first time I met you."

She shrugs. "I can be nice."

"I suppose. Regardless, you walking me to class won't be necessary Quinn, but I very much appreciate the offer." She's out of the door and down the hall in a flash, leaving Quinn feeling just as confused and annoyed as she was during their first encounter.

* * *

"She totally ditched your sorry ass," Santana exclaims with a boisterous laugh, accepting the fry Brittany feeds her. "She high tailed it outta there. I bet she was all, who's this crazy bitch stalking me?"

Quinn pinches the bridge of her nose sharply to thwart the building migraine she feels coming on. Santana's been laughing at her for the past five minutes. "Shut up, San."

"It's probs because she's a third year," Santana continues. "Can't be seen by the likes of you. You'd cramp her style."

"Thanks for the support," she says wryly.

Her laughter dies down when Brittany whispers something in her ear. Hanging her head, she apologizes to Quinn. But the damage is already done. Quinn's face is flaming as she stares at the food on her plate, suddenly losing her appetite.

"Do you really think she thought that?"

"No, Q," Brittany says reassuringly. "Santana was just being mean, I'm sure it wasn't like that at all."

Quinn nods, swallowing thickly. "Then why'd she blow me off like that?"

"Oh, for fucks sake, suck it up, Q! She's the first woman since ever to turn you down. Why are you so worried about her? Where's Chloe?" she replies distractedly, eyes scanning the cafeteria for the brunette in question, trying to take Quinn's mind off the whole situation.

"You're right. Forget it," Quinn says resolutely. "I was just being foolish. She doesn't matter."

"She's probably not even a good fuck," Santana agrees.

"Is that all you care about?"

"Sex is important," she nods.

"Everyone come out to audition for the play! _Tiring Tryst of Love _everyone come out to audition!"

"What do you want, Jew Fro?" Puck sneers as a small boy with glasses and a large afro approaches the jocks with an arm full of fliers.

"Greetings Noah Puckerman. You're looking as swollen and muscular as usual," the boy, Jacob Ben Israel, replies, voice trembling with fear as he readjusts his glasses. "I'm simply here to pass out fliers for the play that we're putting on. Our resident most talented actress Rachel Berry has agreed to star in the play and we're looking for another female lead to play opposite her, as well as an understudy."

Quinn perks up at Rachel's name and she turns her head to where Jacob is. She slides out of her seat gracefully before walking over to him. "Can I have one of those?"

"S-sure," he stutters out before handing her a copy. "Quinn Fabray I think that you would be lovely for the part. I've always loved an attractive blonde and brunette pairing and the love making scene between you and Rachel would be enough to make me arrive early if you know what I mean."

Quinn makes a disgusted face before telling Jacob to get lost, glancing down at the flier with Rachel's face on it in her hand. Santana and Brittany are by her side in seconds, peering down at the flier.

"She's hot."

"Totally."

"Way too hot for Q. We should invite her into our bed, Brits."

"Look at her lips, San. They're just perfect for sucking my–"

"Okay," Quinn growls, crumbling up the paper in her hand. "That's enough. The both of you. Keep it in your pants."

"I'd rather keep it in hers," Santana snickers.

Quinn rolls her eyes before sitting back down at the table. "So you're going to really do this play?"

She bobs her head up and down. "If they'll have me. I mean, the chances of me getting the part are definitely slim, but I was thinking that playing my hand in theater will help balance the fact that I'm lumped in the 'jerk jock' category." She jerks her thumb backwards to emphasize her point as two of the guys engage in an arm wrestle, her Cheerios squad on stand by making airy comments.

"Please," Santana scoffs. "You're just doing this to get into that Berry girl's pants."

She smirks easily at having been caught. "I wouldn't be opposed to the idea."

"Stalker."

Quinn frowns.

* * *

Rachel huffs quietly as yet another girl is sent from the stage by the director of the play. She eyes the man wearily. She's always loved and hated being casted first in a play. Being casted first is, well, being _casted…first._ It was exhilarating for her to know that she had made such an impression on a director that she was the first person to get the call to join a cast. But being casted first also meant having to read your lines over and over again while average and sub-par aspiring actors and actresses stumbled and sputtered out their lines until that one special person out of a sea of mediocrity shined through and won over the heart of the writer and director of the play.

"We'll find her, Rach," the director, Mr. Schuester, says reassuringly. "You just have to be patient."

Rachel nods, her eyes finding the floor as she tries to expel the exhaustion from her body. They'd been at this for hours. She's been on her feet for hours. Hell, she's been cranky for weeks. To put it mildly, the play she's staring in isn't worthy of any kind of award. That's why there aren't many people showing up and auditioning. Well, not the talented people anyway. It's not the most well written play she's been in but Rachel's known Mr. Schuester for the three years she's been attending NYU and when he came to her and practically begged her to star in his play she couldn't turn him down.

Being in this play has been exceptionally tiring for the girl because she's been trying desperately to find someone to play opposite her. She's scouted for talent in the senior dorms, all the way to the freshman dorms and all she's managed to do is meet an annoying blonde that won't seem to leave her alone.

"Next," Mr. Schuester calls from his seat in front of the stage.

Rachel turns to the door to see a girl clad in a purple NYU cheering uniform walk in. Her lip presses into a firm line as she takes in the girl's blonde ponytail, determined eyes, and…was she smirking? Rachel rolls her eyes before she walks back over to her mark.

"Hello," Mr. Schuester says with a wide smile, extending his hand. "I'm William Schuester."

"Quinn Fabray," Rachel hears the girl reply confidently. "I'm here to audition for the roll of Brooke."

"Do you have a script already, Quinn?"

"Umm…no," she falters, hearing Rachel scoff behind her. "I was just given a paper from that Jacob kid saying that anyone could try out."

Mr. Schuester nods before reaching into a box under the table. "Here you go." He hands her the script. "You'll be playing opposite Rachel. Do you have any experience in theater?"

"I was in _The Nutcracker_ in second grade," she says. She hears Rachel's quiet laugh behind her and Quinn can't decide if the girl is laughing with her or at her.

"Uh, okay," the man draws out. "How about you hop up on stage and just show us what you got?"

"Sure thing."

She walks onto the stage to stand directly in front of Rachel, noting their height difference and smirking a little. "Bet you didn't plan on seeing me twice in one day."

"I'm utterly thrilled," Rachel replies sarcastically.

"Anytime you're ready girls," Mr. Schuester cuts in.

She watches as Rachel closes her eyes and sighs deeply. When she looks back at Quinn again there's so much love and adoration shining in her eyes that Quinn would swear it was real.

"Say it again," Rachel says, giggling quietly as she takes a step closer to Quinn and grabs the blonde's hands. "I wanna hear you say it," she whispers.

Quinn glances briefly at the script for direction before meeting Rachel's eyes. She loosens her hold on Rachel's hand to draw it up her arm, noticing how the older girl shivers slightly. She tucks her hair behind her ear and cups her cheek before leaning closer. "I love you," she whispers.

"Again," Rachel breathes against her lips.

Quinn swallows thickly, a lump suddenly forming in her throat. "I love you so much, Alyssa."

They stay like that for a moment longer, Rachel's head tilting as she studies Quinn silently.

"Alright cut!" Mr. Schuester replies as he leans back in his seat. "Well I'd definitely say that the two of you have chemistry. That's half the battle," he sighs. "Now we have to see if you guys have enough stage presence as a duo to carry a scene together. But I think we should save that and we'll pick it back up in a couple of days when we rehearse again."

"What?" Rachel questions. "But Mr. Schuester we have –what would admittedly not be my first choice– a great Brook on our hands compared to the lack luster renditions we've been receiving of a character that is as deep as she is complex," she embellishes. "Are we really going to wait until _days _later to try out another scene?"

"Rachel, you're tired. And more than a little cranky," he replies, exhaustion in his own voice. "I'd honestly hate to push you any further. We have a great possibility on our hands with Quinn; can we just leave it at that for a few days? Let it marinate. We've been waiting for this break for a month now and we finally have it. Let's count it as a small victory for now."

Quinn stands idly by, feeling awkward at being talked about as if she isn't there. She feels like she's watching an argument between a father and his bossy daughter. "I think Mr. Schuester is right," she pipes up to take some of the heat off the guy. "What's a few more days?"

Rachel stands there, glaring at them both before turning on her heel and storming out. Quinn's jaw drops in surprise at the very dramatic act. Who even does storm outs anymore?

"You'll get used to that," Mr. Schuester supplies helpfully.

* * *

It's eight at night by the time Quinn makes it back to her dorm. She drags her feet, thinking about her econ homework and the French test she has to study for. She has a long night ahead of her and she just hopes that either Brittany's not at hers and Santana's apartment, or that Santana went to spend the night over at Brittany's because the two of them together are…loud.

She walks into her building and catches sight of Ashley, offering her a small wave.

"Wanna come over tonight?" the brunette asks impishly and Quinn already knows what would be in store for her if she actually says yes.

"Not tonight," she says instead. "I have a lot of homework, a test to study for, and a script I have to memorize for this play."

"A play?" Ashley asks incredulously. "Since when are you an actor, Quinn? Leave the theater for the geeks and come in my room for some fun tonight."

The geek comment hits a nerve that Quinn never knew she had. "Since when is theater for the geeks?" she asks coldly. "Is acting just as nerdy when you're watching Brad Pitt or Jake Gyllenhaal take their shirts off for a love scene? Hmm?" She doesn't know where this sudden burst of anger is coming from considering a few weeks ago, hell a few _days_ ago she probably would have laughed about the joke with Ashley and joined her in her room for the night.

"Hey, I didn't mean anything by it," Ashley says gently. She grabs Quinn's hand, stroking her fingertips. "Come on. I'm sorry. Lemme make it up to you."

Her fingers slip through Ashley's hand as she looks the girl in the eye. "Honestly Ashley, I just want some alone time tonight. I'm tired, it's been a long day, and I just want some solitude."

"Okay." She nods her head a little dejectedly. "Some other time, then?"

"Sure," she replies noncommittally with a crooked smile before walking up the stairs to her own room.

She turns on the light at her desk and slumps in her seat, dragging her econ book from her bag. Flipping through the pages, she tries her hardest to concentrate but keeps thinking about that girl.

"Rachel Berry," she says quietly, smiling around the syllables.

Knowing that her econ isn't due for another day and opting to do it later when she has a clear mind, she rummages through her bag for the script of the play. Her eyes scan the pages as she reads Brook's lines.

"_Don't you see that I love you? I wanna make this work, I really do but what if it can't?_"

She continues reading, catching the gist of the play. Brooke and Alyssa, who have been best friends since grade school and lovers since the tenth grade, are forced on two different paths as they journey to receive higher education at two different colleges. Brooke, who's the more disciplined of the two goes to UCLA to study medicine and Alyssa, the more free spirited one moves to Florida with an undecided major. The play chronicles their ups and downs and inevitable break up.

And, Quinn notices with an arched eyebrow, there's a love scene. Suddenly what that Jacob kid said makes sense. It's very detailed in Quinn's opinion. There isn't much shedding of clothes, however she _does _get to touch Rachel's breast, she notices with a smirk.

Sighing quietly, she closes the script and hops into bed, idly wondering for the first time what Rachel's doing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Someone I've Been Missing (The Better Half of Me)

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU/Future fic. Quinn, a rising sophomore in college, meets Rachel for the first time just before the school term begins. An argument between them leaves Rachel wanting nothing more than to forget that Quinn even exists. But she soon finds out that she can't get rid of the determined blonde that easily.

A/N 1: A huge thank you to everyone that continues to review! To 'LazyToLogin' (anon): The play is not a musical, sorry. But I do allude to Rachel's love of singing in this chapter. I just didn't want the play she and Quinn are in to be a musical. 

* * *

Quinn hates her Tuesday/Thursday classes. Partly because of her French professor and her languorous way of teaching, but mostly because she doesn't see Rachel at all during the day. But luckily she's still auditioning for the play so she gets to see her later.

Her day passes by in a blur and she decides to skip lunch because of the simple fact that the butterflies of excitement fluttering in her stomach are too much right now.

She walks into the auditorium and catches sight of Rachel, sitting on the third row from the stage, studying something carefully in her lap.

"Hi," Quinn says disarmingly as she approaches the girl.

Rachel looks up, eyes wide. "Quinn," she says quickly. "I didn't expect anyone to be here."

"Why are you here?" Quinn asks in return as she glides through the second row leaning forward on the back of the seat to be closer to Rachel. "It's lunch. Shouldn't you be in the dining hall or a restaurant, or somewhere…not here?"

"I always eat here for lunch," Rachel says softly before glancing back down at her lap. Quinn peers down to look at whatever has the brunette's attention. "Sheet music? You're a singer?"

The question garners the first genuine smile Quinn's ever seen on the older girl's face. "I love to sing," she replies. "And I'm good at it."

"And so modest," Quinn teases.

"Confident but not conceited," Rachel says with a small blush as her eyes shy away from Quinn's own, once again wondering why the girl has so much interest in her. "So you _do_ own a pair of civilian clothes after all," she jokes, looking Quinn up and down.

Quinn stands up looks down at her light blue dress partly shielded by her letterman. Smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles, she looks back up at Rachel. "I guess so," she replies with a quiet, nervous laugh.

She leans back down on her seat almost instantly and Rachel suppresses a gasp at the sudden closeness of hazel eyes boring into her own.

"Go out with me, Rachel," she whispers in the space between them.

Rachel stares into Quinn's eyes closely, noticing for the first time the hints of gold mixed in with green and brown. She sighs deeply before replying. "Thank you for the offer, Quinn. But I'm afraid I'll have to decline."

"What? Why?" she demands in return.

Rachel sighs again before leaning back to put space between them. "Because I am uninterested," she says softly. "Look Quinn, I apologize if–"

"Forget it," she spits. "I don't care. I was just doing you a favor so you wouldn't have to sit in here and eat lunch alone like a–"

"A what, Quinn?" Rachel challenges as she stands from her chair. "A loser? Well, pardon me if I don't want to be your charity case. And for the record; I don't eat lunch in here because I lack friends like the loser you must think me as. I eat lunch in here because I lack tolerance for pig headed jerks like you. Leave your immature mentality back in high school, Quinn," she says as she walks through the row to the main aisle. She turns back to the blonde. "The only losers here are people that don't apply themselves and people who try to create a social hierarchy where none exists."

She gives the blonde a telling glance before storming out of the room, leaving Quinn behind. 

* * *

"Ashley called," Santana informs Quinn as she does a once over in her mirror. "Wanted to know if you wanted to go to the party with her."

Quinn doesn't respond, too focused on applying her eyeliner just right.

"Okay, what the hell is wrong with you?" Santana barks from her room. "You've been in a pissy mood for two days and I for one am sick of it. And you aren't going to ruin my night for me, Q. Britt already did that."

Quinn sighs quietly. "What's going with you and Britt?" she asks just so she doesn't have to talk about her own problems. Even two days later she's still upset about her argument with Rachel and although she doesn't feel up to partying she's willing to do just about anything to take her mind off of the other girl.

"Shit, she was talking about feelings today," Santana says and Quinn can hear her voice getting closer. "She knows how I feel about her so why do we have to talk about it? Why do I have to tell her I love her? Hell, why the fuck do I have to commit to her? Santana Lopez commits to _no one_."

Dabbing the last of her lip gloss on her lips, Quinn does a little twirl in the mirror to make sure everything is just right, smoothing her dress down her body. "Everyone likes to hear those words, San. At least that's what I've been told," she grumbles before sitting back on her bed, putting her boots on.

"Well the way I feel is, if she knows how I feel and I know how I feel then I don't have to say it," she huffs. "Hurry your ass up because I'm ready to go."

"Maybe she doesn't know how you feel."

"And _maybe_ I don't wanna talk about this anymore," Santana growls. "I just wanna get drunk, party, and get laid."

"Whatever," Quinn replies before grabbing her jacket. "And for the record; if you don't want to talk about your marital problems, don't open your damn mouth."

Santana's actually taken aback at the blonde's tone. Quinn only acted like a true bitch when something was wrong, other times she was only just bitchy, playing the role of something she wasn't truly about. Before she can respond Quinn is already out the door.

"This is going to be a long fucking night if she thinks she's going to keep talking to me that way," Santana grumbles. 

* * *

"Sexy ladies," Puck jeers as Quinn and Santana walk in. "Beer, vodka, and wine coolers in the kitchen. Pick your poison then come find me if you decide to strip at any point."

They simultaneously roll their eyes before handing them their coats. "I know how much money's in there Puck head so don't even think about putting your paws all over it," Santana tells him as she passes by.

Not even bothering with pretenses, both girls make a beeline for the kitchen. Quinn grabbing a wine cooler before wandering off and Santana grabbing a whole bottle of vodka that she plans on nursing the entire night.

Quinn walks back into the main room, finding an unoccupied sofa before sitting on it. She downs the first sip of her drink, swirling the Apple Passion flavor on her tongue.

It doesn't take long for boredom to set in. Quinn isn't much of a partier. Part of the only reason she comes to parties is to keep an eye on Santana if Brittany doesn't come with them. Which is rare because Brittany always comes except for nights like this. Rare nights when she and Santana get into huge fights and Brittany just decides to opt out of whatever group fun they're going to have.

Quinn always hates when they fight because not only does she get put in the middle but she actually likes Brittany. She doesn't like seeing her hurt or not hanging out with them just because Santana's an ass.

Before she knows it her wine cooler is empty and she's walking back into the kitchen looking for something stronger. 

* * *

"And then she had the nerve to yell at me and insinuate that I'm a loser!" Rachel exclaims vehemently. "I mean the nerve of that, that…girl! That rude, obnoxious, _abhorrent_–"

Kurt and Mercedes sit on Rachel's bed, flipping through a magazine as they tune in and out of the conversation –albeit one sided conversation– periodically.

"All we did was ask her if she wanted to party with us tonight. How did we end up on this topic?" Kurt whispers to Mercedes between flipping the pages.

Mercedes points excitedly at a pair of boots that she thinks Kurt would look good in. "I don't even remember. I think it started when you said it was a sophomore party."

"Ah, yes," Kurt agrees, sweeping back his side bang. "Then she just had to tell us about how she met the most rude and inconsiderate sophomore of them all."

"What was her name again?"

"Quinn Fabray. Don't ever forget it, girl, because I don't know who'd kill you more. Rachel or the girl herself."

"Are the two of you even listening?" Rachel huffs, suddenly losing steam as she flops back into the chair at her desk.

"Yeah, of course," Mercedes waves her off. "Quinn…rude…called you a loser…she's a bitch. We got it."

Rachel nods. "She –she just…ugh! And did you know that I have to share a stage with her? And it's not like I could say no because above anything else, Rachel Berry is a professional. Besides, my acting can only increase exponentially after this play because having to pretend to love a woman that I absolutely cannot stand is quite the difficult task."

"Are you sure you can't stand her?" Kurt asks with a teasing smirk.

She flushes a little before crossing her arms over her chest. "She's unbearable."

"Uh huh."

"What are you implying?"

"That we all need to go to this party," Mercedes chimes in. "C'mon, Rach, we've been on this subject for a half hour now. Can we please just go party?"

"You two go ahead, I have homework to catch up on." With that she turns back to the homework piled on top of her desk.

"Oh hell to the no. Did we really come over here to invite her to the party, listen to her rant about some skinny blonde that she can't stand for a half hour, only to be kicked out without her even going to the party?"

"You don't have to leave," Rachel says with a shrug. She grins widely before reaching into a nearby drawer. "In fact if you stay you can help me make flashcards for my child development class."

"Yeah, no thanks," Kurt supplies. "So you're not going? Again? Honestly, Rachel sometimes you just come off as a hermit."

Rachel turns from her homework to eye the finely manicured boy on her bed speaking to her. "No, I'm not going Kurt and I can do without the insults, thank you. I got enough of that a few days ago."

"I think Kurt's right though," Mercedes, calls from beside the boy on her bed. "Come on, girlfriend you've got to get out sometime. Besides, you've been grumpy for the past few days. Maybe if you get out and shake your butt a little bit you'll feel better."

She laughs at her friend's antics, Mercedes now bent over shaking her butt in the air while Kurt smacks it repeatedly. Her giggles quiet down as she responds. "As much as I'd like to do…_that. _Well, not like to really. I –I've never been to very many parties so I'm certain that I can't shake my rear that well. I don't even really have one so what would there be to–"

"Rachel," Kurt interrupts, knowing all too well that her rant could go on for forever. "I'll admit that going to a sophomore party lacks class and that I'm silently judging Mercedes in my head for even bringing the party to our attention."

"Whatever," Mercedes scoffs as she leans over towards Rachel's mirror, tweaking her lip gloss.

"However, you need some fun, girl! Come party with us. Your homework will always be there."

Rachel bites her lip in contemplation. It isn't that she doesn't want to go. Okay, that was a big part of it. She's not much of a partier. But even still she'd go just because her friends asked, but after what transpired between her and Quinn she's honestly still in a bad mood.

She drops her head with a sigh and Kurt and Mercedes already know the answer. "Next time," Mercedes says softly as she walks over to Rachel and gives her a hug. Kurt follows suit, offering a peck to her cheek. "We're serious," he deadpans. "Next time your butt is out of this room and shaking on a dance floor somewhere."

"Deal," she says with a smile as she watches them out the door. 

* * *

She can tell the alcohol is well in her system as she stumbles slightly back to the couch, cursing the fact that the genes for tolerating alcohol apparently skipped over her because her mother and father can drink like a fish.

"Quinnie," a familiar voice calls with affection and Quinn almost vomits.

"You know I don't like that name," she replies as a way of greeting Ashley. The girl leans up to place a sloppy kiss to her lips and Quinn can already tell that she isn't the only drunk one in this conversation.

"I've been looking all over for you," she says as she links her hand with Quinn's, weaving through the crowd with the blonde trailing behind.

Mercedes feels someone bump into her and, spinning around, she's about to grab a hand full of dark hair before Kurt stops her. "Easy there, Cedes," he coaxes. "Wait, is that Quinn Fabray?"

Quinn barely registers her name being called as she ignores whoever it is, concentrating on the difficult task of putting one foot in front of the other.

Mercedes laughs loudly as Kurt follows suit, having had three shots each and feeling the effects of giggle fits and double vision already. "Q –Quinn Fabray," she howls, head tossed back. "Wouldn't that be funny if that was actually her?"

Kurt nods animatedly, wiping a tear from his eye. "I almost wish Rachel wash here. She would have thrown a hissy fit at that poor girl. Whoever she is."

Mercedes takes deep breaths to calm herself before bursting into another fit of giggles. "There are too many blondes at this school."

Quinn follows Ashley up a flight of stairs, too gone to even engage the brunette in conversation. Sniffling from a nearby room catches her attention and before she knows it she's let go of Ashley's hand to follow the cause of the noise.

"Britts, I'm sorry, okay?"

Suspecting her friend to be on the phone, she's surprised to peak into the room to see Santana curled into Brittany's lap and Brittany stroking her hair.

"Then why do you always do that, San?" Brittany asks softly, wiping a tear off Santana's face before intertwining their fingers. She looks up, surprised to see Quinn there but offering her a soft smile.

"Because I'm a stupid bitch," Santana sniffles into the blonde's neck.

"No you're not," Brittany says firmly. "You're just scared. And I get that you're scared, San but you can't keep pushing me away like you do. It hurts."

Quinn smiles back at her two friends before quietly walking away, having faith that they'll work it out. She continues to follow Ashley until they reach the end of the hall. "Come on, baby," Ashley purrs as she pulls Quinn inside and shuts the door. 

* * *

Mr. Schuester eyes the two girls carefully, choosing his words wisely. "How would the two of you feel about doing a once over of the goodbye kiss today?"

Rachel instantly bristles and Quinn isn't much better. He exhales quietly before forging forward. "Okay, maybe that isn't such a good idea. The two of you seem to be a bit…out of it."

"I'm fine," Quinn says gruffly.

"I am more than capable of doing this scene though it isn't one that I would choose to do right now," Rachel replies.

"Alright, whenever you're ready."

Quinn turns to look at Rachel and just as if someone's flipped a switch, all traces of malice are gone from the brunette's deep eyes. Quinn would find it creepy the way Rachel can turn her hate on and off without an issue, but some part of her actually finds it hot.

"I have an hour left, Lyssa," Quinn says, pain evident in her voice as she avoids Rachel's eyes. "I'm not sure when I'll be back."

"You don't have to go," Rachel says forcefully, tapping into the inner psyche of her selfish and petulant character. "Come with me to Florida." She grabs Quinn's jaw gently, stroking the soft skin there before turning Quinn to face her head on. "Just come with me, please," she pleads.

"Please, Brooke," she says brokenly, clutching the front of Quinn's letterman. Quinn's breath picks up slightly at Rachel's sudden close proximity. She wracks her brain trying to find her next line.

Pulling away, she takes a few steps back before turning away from Rachel. "If I come with you then what will I do? What about my life? What about my dreams?" She turns back around to face Rachel with a hopeless expression on her face. "Alyssa, you can't be selfish."

"Love is selfish!" Rachel shouts as she quickly closes the distance between them. "It's selfish, it's unkind, but it's _real._ What we have is real, please don't throw it away."

"Alyssa–"

Rachel surges forward, her lips landing firmly against Quinn's own. Quinn's arms immediately wrap around Rachel's waist, if only to ground herself against the unexpected onslaught.

Rachel's lips are soft but unyielding, gently coaxing Quinn into play. Quinn tightens her hold around Rachel before canting her head to the right, sliding her lips effortlessly against Rachel's. She sighs quietly against Rachel's lips when she feels two arms wrap around her neck securely.

A slippery tongue flicks against her lips and Quinn moans quietly before allowing Rachel in, pulling their bodies even closer.

"Okay girls, break it up," Mr. Schuester calls from behind his desk away from the stage. Rachel pulls back slowly, eyes darker than usual as they flit from Quinn's lips, to her eyes, to Mr. Schuester as she backs away.

Quinn stands there awkwardly, wondering just what the hell happened. She knows the scene had required a kiss but damn. Her lips tingle and she licks them quickly before turning to face Mr. Schuester as well.

Mr. Schuester looks at them proudly before standing. "I have to say that you guys blow me away with your chemistry each and every time," he gushes. "If I didn't know any better I'd say the two of you were already dating."

They both frown for completely different reasons, but take the compliment as it was intended.

Rachel's the first to hop off stage, grabbing her bag from a row of seats before preparing to leave.

"Practice again tomorrow, ladies. The play goes on at the end of the year and I'd like us to be on top of our game."

Quinn nods as she makes her way to Rachel. "Can you hang back for just a second? I'd really like to talk to you."

"Sure, Quinn," she replies warily before walking off to a nearby row. She smoothes the back of her skirt before taking a seat.

"I want to apologize for my behavior a few days ago," Quinn says sincerely, sitting beside her. "Rachel, I don't think you're a loser. In fact I think that you're…" she pauses to lick her lips nervously, eyes finding the floor with interest, "beautiful…and smart and talented."

Rachel's stoic expression softens just a fraction as she soaks in Quinn's words.

"You know what your problem is, Quinn?"

She bites the inside of her cheek to keep in any kind of defensive and scathing remark. "…What's my problem, Rachel?"

"Your problem is that no one's ever told you no."

"What does that even mean?"

"Everyone, everyone from your parents, to the servants I'm _sure _you had at your house, to the pack of friends that I'm sure you're the leader of, to every guy or girl or _both_ you've ever dated. No one has ever told you no or turned you down for anything."

Quinn mulls over words, keeping her temper in check at Rachel's assessment, no, _judgement _of her. "And what if that's true?" she asks. "How is that a bad thing?"

"Because you're simply unbearable!" Rachel exclaims, throwing her hands up. "Do not get me wrong, Quinn. You have impeccable manners which I'm sure come from grade A grooming as a child–"

"I'm not a dog."

"–But you're arrogant. You think the entire world revolves around you. Everyone's life revolves around you and if they ever answer no to you then they'll have hell to pay."

"Hey, wait now that's not true."

"Every time I've ever told you no you have given me nothing but attitude."

"You give me attitude," she fires right back. "Hell, you carry yourself as if the very ground you walk on is sacred and that you're just so untouchable!"

"Well what about you? That day when we first met you asked if I knew you and I said no. I thought you'd have an aneurysm!"

Quinn laughs humorlessly, standing up to put a hand on her hip. "And then I introduced myself, you know, trying to get a dialogue going so that we could know each other better. And you basically said that you regretted meeting me!"

"_And then _you had the audacity to raise your voice to me and spout out hurtful words just because I told you I didn't want to go on a date with you!" Rachel yells, color in her cheeks as she stands to meet Quinn head on.

Quinn closes her eyes to calm her ire, unsure if she and Rachel were even having the same conversation, well, argument, anymore.

"Look, how about we both just apologize and start over," she offers a second later.

Rachel nods her consent, if only to have some sort of civility while they work together. She clears her throat. "And just so we don't have to argue yet again about who should be the one to apologize first, allow me." She sucks in a deep breath before meeting the blonde's eyes. "Quinn, I, Rachel Barbra Berry, formally apologize for my behavior towards you this past month. It was unacceptable and borderline childish and I can assure you it won't happen again. I am actually quite nice, if only a _tad _obnoxious at times once you get to know me."

Quinn smiles at the older girl's long winded apology before she offers one of her own. "Rachel, I, Quinn Fabray –okay I can't do this." She shakes her head before stepping closer to Rachel. "I'm not very good with formalities although my father is perfect at being formal," she says with a roll of her eyes.

"Rachel. I apologize for my behavior. You're right; I was extremely arrogant for no reason at all and it was uncalled for. It won't happen again. And unlike you I'm not a _tad _obnoxious, I'm _very _obnoxious. I hope that doesn't stop you from wanting to be my friend though," she laughs.

"Friend?" Rachel blurts out, chastising herself afterwards for sounding hopeful.

"If you want me to be."

"Do you want to be?"

"Yeah."

She sticks her hand out. "Friends?"

Rachel smiles despite herself, taking the blonde's hand into her own. "Friends."

Quinn brings Rachel's hand to her chest, clutching it tightly as she steps closer. "So does this mean that you'll go out on a date with me?" she whispers.

"No," Rachel whispers with a large grin on her face.

"You'll say yes one day," Quinn retorts without any trace of malice in her voice.

Rachel just smiles enigmatically at her before retrieving her hand from Quinn's admittedly soft ones. "We'll see." 


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **Someone I've Been Missing (The Better Half of Me)

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **R

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU/Future fic. Quinn, a rising sophomore in college, meets Rachel for the first time just before the school term begins. An argument between them leaves Rachel wanting nothing more than to forget that Quinn even exists. But she soon finds out that she can't get rid of the determined blonde that easily.

A/N: Just a bit of a heads up, this chapter has a bit of a time skip. I just figured everyone would enjoy it more if we got to the good stuff. Thank you for the reviews last chapter! And I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

* * *

Ever since shaking hands on a new found friendship with Rachel Quinn's found herself hanging out with the brunette more and more. And she's learned a lot more about her. Such as the fact that Rachel can talk. _A lot. _Quinn had caught a glimpse at just how much Rachel could talk during their arguments before their friendship was forged. But now that they're friends and Rachel's let down her guard Quinn thinks that she's also let down the flood gates to her mouth because the girl never stops talking.

Quinn's also learned to associate certain words with Rachel's personality. Words such as diva, tactless, vegan, Broadway, _Funny Girl_, Barbra Streisand, perfect pitch, and a host of other words that alone mean nothing but together embody the girl that Quinn finds herself becoming more and more attached to.

And that's another thing that Quinn's a little unsure about. While she seems to like Rachel more and more with each passing day, Quinn isn't at all sure how Rachel feels about her. She's asked her out three more times in the past two months and each time Rachel turns her down with that same half smile that drives Quinn insane. Each time Rachel tells her no she spirals farther and farther down to earth and Rachel always giggles and tells her that one day she'll actually get to walk around with the rest of the peons. _"Maybe then I'll date you," _she always says with a smile.

"Whatever," Quinn grumbles to herself as she takes a bowl of chicken noodle soup from the microwave. She walks out of the kitchen and into Santana's bedroom to find the brunette curled up under a mound of covers. Quinn's face balls up at the loud and congested breathing she hears from under the covers.

"I brought your soup," she says quietly, laying the soup on the nightstand before gently peeling back Santana's covers. "Wakey, wakey," she teases.

Santana says something unintelligible that Quinn's sure is a curse word before sitting up. "Feed me," she demands stuffily.

"No way, Lopez," Quinn replies before pulling up a chair. "I'll sit in here with you to give you company before Brittany shows up but you're feeding your damn self."

She groans quietly before grabbing the spoon. Bringing the soup up to her lips. "It's too hot," she tells Quinn in a voice that sounds desperately close to a whine.

"Alright, you big baby." She slides the soup to the side, giving Santana a dry piece of bread.

"What the fuck is this shit?"

"It's bread. It's plain sustenance that's hopefully bland enough to keep you from throwing it back up."

Santana groans around the bite of bread. "Tastes like–"

"Shit. I get it," Quinn sighs. "You're even more impossible when you're sick."

"Whatever." She unwillingly finishes the slice of bread before downing and entire glass of apple juice. "Any closer to banging that Berry chick yet?"

"Rachel," Quinn says, her voice unconsciously softening at the brunette's name. "And no, I'm not close to banging her. I'm not even sure if that's all I want from her."

"Is Quinn talking marriage?" Santana jokes.

Quinn shakes her head. "I don't think we're on that level yet, I'll save that for you and B," she quips. "But I'm really starting to like her."

"Too many feelings in this room. Stop it right now."

"You mean too many germs in this room. Seriously, have you considered cracking a window?"

"I'm cold," she complains. "Don't you dare open a window."

She hands Santana another piece of bread that's begrudgingly accepted. "I have to go, okay? I have a class in twenty. But B should be here within the next ten minutes."

Santana nods and before Quinn knows what's happening she's being swept up in a hug. "Don't ever say I never gave you anything," Santana mumbles. "And you better not tell _anyone _about this."

Nodding against Santana's shoulder, Quinn wraps her arms gently around her friend, careful not to hurt her since her body's sore.

A soft, quick exhalation against her neck followed by wetness alerts Quinn to one thing.

…Santana's just sneezed on her.

"Thanks," she mutters darkly.

"Any time, Q."

* * *

Quinn rushes to class, not stopping her full on sprint until she's in her seat beside Rachel.

"Is there a marathon race happening on campus that I haven't been privy to?" Rachel asks smartly as she looks over to Quinn.

"Very funny….smart ass," Quinn pants before pulling a bottle of water out of her Cheerios bag. She rips the top off before downing half the bottle and Rachel watches intently as the muscles in Quinn's throat bob up and down with the effort.

She tears her eyes away to watch as the teacher walks into class. "Well at least you weren't late," she supplies.

"That's exactly what I was trying to avoid. How was your morning?"

"Uneventful," she replies with a shrug. "I did manage to hit a high F in choir today. You know, the usual."

Quinn rolls her eyes, not sure what's so special about a high F is but if Rachel's playing it off like it's no big deal, then it must be quite the accomplishment. "I want to hear you sing sometime," she replies sincerely.

"Perhaps you can someday. I do enjoy an audience."

"I'm sure you do."

Once the professor begins writing on the board, signaling the beginning of class, Quinn doesn't even try to talk to Rachel anymore. The last several times she's tried engaging the older girl in conversation during class Rachel's loudly shushed her. One time almost getting her in trouble.

Instead she chooses to focus on her work, sparing glances at the brunette every now and then. Her eyes trace the side of her face, memorizing the length of her eyelashes, the curve of her lips. How long, thick and shiny her hair is. Rachel bites her lip in contemplation and Quinn's eyes zero in on the action. A moment later a teasing smile replaces a bitten lip and Quinn looks back up to see Rachel side eyeing her.

She huffs quietly before turning around, deciding work is more interesting.

When class ends she hurriedly grabs her belongings, knowing that if she wants to walk Rachel to her next class she needs to move fast. "You know, you should just go out with me."

Rachel clutches her books to her chest, having turned Quinn down when the blonde offered numerous times to carry them for her. "Is that so?"

"Yeah."

They fall into step with one another, navigating the campus with ease. "I think you like me. Or at the very least you like the fact that I like you."

"But what if I _don't _like you, Quinn?" Rachel challenges, tossing a look in the blonde's direction.

Quinn makes an abrupt stop to stare down at the brunette. "You don't like me, Rachel?" she asks quietly.

Rachel's breath hitches at the intensity of Quinn's eyes. She knows it's a trick but she can't bring herself to look away from the blonde in front of her. She allows herself the briefest moment to indulge, eyes sweeping across the blonde's face from her cheekbones, to her cute nose, those beautiful hazel eyes, and those full lips.

"I'm waiting, Rachel."

She opens her mouth to speak, unsure of what she's going to say. "I–"

"Hey, Rachel!"

Quinn growls quietly as Rachel's head whips around to see her friends. "Hi, Mercedes! Kurt!"

Mercedes and Kurt slow down, simply content to wave quickly before continuing on to class but the blonde beside Rachel catches their eye. They both feel a tickling sensation in the back of their minds, trying to figure out where they know the girl from.

Quinn stares back at them, having no idea who either of them are but assuming they're friends of Rachel. Her eyes narrow as they continue to stare, a barked "What?" on the tip of her tongue.

"Come on, Quinn. Hurry up before I leave you!" Rachel exclaims before grabbing the blonde's hand. "I'll see you guys later!" she calls to Kurt and Mercedes.

Kurt and Mercedes are left staring at each other with spooked looks on their faces.

"Was that just–"

"Quinn Fabray? Yep."

"And that's the same girl–"

"From the party that we jokingly called Quinn Fabray but thought that she wasn't her? And now it turns out that she was? The girl that was being led by another girl upstairs to do things that no gay man wants to imagine two girls doing? Yep."

"And that's the same girl that Rachel–"

"Has a monster crush on that even she hasn't realized yet? Yep."

They continue to stare at each other, both having the same thought running through they're head. "We totally should have been born sisters," Kurt gushes, voicing their simultaneous thought before pulling Mercedes into a hug. "We finish each other's sentences and everything."

They sober up quickly, Mercedes combing a hand through her hair as Kurt plucks a lent ball from his vest. "No but seriously. This is a hot damn mess," Mercedes says.

"Tell me about it. We need to find out more about this Quinn girl because as of right now she doesn't seem like the one for Rachel at all."

They both nod, satisfied with their new plan before continuing on to class.

"You sure do like holding my hand," Quinn says, her mind miles away from that odd encounter with Rachel's friends.

Rachel stops walking; only now noticing that she's been holding the blonde's hand the entire way. She colors slightly before letting it go. "Thank you for walking me to class," she says, suddenly shy.

"It's always a pleasure."

She spins on her heel to walk away and this time she just _knows _Rachel's looking at her ass.

* * *

"Feeling better?" Quinn calls into their apartment style dorm as a way of a greeting. She would have preferred to have lunch with Rachel in the theater, but she cancelled with the brunette to check on her best friend.

"Wait a minute. I have her number for a reason…" Quinn mumbles to herself before shooting Rachel a quick text. It'd been hell getting the brunette's number and Quinn wasn't about to waste it.

_**Hi gorgeous ;)**_

"What do you think?" Santana barks from the same place under the covers she was in when Quinn left her that morning. Quinn sighs, being with Rachel would have definitely been better.

"Did Brittany come by?" she asks instead of engaging her friend in an argument. There would be plenty of time for that when she feels better.

Santana grunts in what Quinn assumes is an affirmative before she feels her phone vibrate. Fishing it out of her pocket, she smirks at the text.

_**I bet you think you're just so charming.**_

_**Well thanks to you I don't think very highly of myself anymore :P**_

"Sit up and we'll take your temperature." Santana groans before slowly rising to a sitting position. "You're a shitty nurse. B at least wore a hot costume."

"Yeah, well I have no intentions on sleeping with you so excuse me if I forego the short, tight nurse uniform I'm sure Brit wore."

Her phone buzzes and she hands Santana the thermometer before reaching for her phone. "Shitty nurse," she mocks.

_**Does Quinn Fabray have low self-esteem? Alert the presses. :P**_

_**Make sure when you call them you also tell them that her self-worth was taken by a 5'2" diva**_

She looks back at Santana and notices that the thermometer hasn't gone off yet. Mildly concerned about her friend's temperature, she decides to send another text.

_**Of course my self-esteem could easily be given a boost if you'd just go out with me ;)**_

"Ashley's been calling all day and Chloe's on voicemail. And another girl named Nadia called," Santana tells her after she takes the thermometer out. "One-oh-one. And who the fuck is Nadia?"

"I never even gave her my number," Quinn murmurs, a brief thought flitting across her mind of when she met said girl at a pool party over the summer. There had been some flirting and Quinn thinks they may have kissed but she's positive she didn't give the girl her number.

"Hello," Santana calls to her, waving the thermometer in front of her face. "My insides are cooking right now and you're sitting here fantasizing about some girl that's apparently a stalker."

"Ice pack." Quinn practically runs to their refrigerator, grabbing a zip lock bag before dumping a tray of ice into it. Her cell phone buzzes and she runs back to Santana's room to place the ice pack against her skin before grabbing her phone.

_**Nope :D**_

_**You'll says yes one day**_

She frowns. That was quickly becoming her catch phrase of sorts.

Rachel doesn't text her back after that and Quinn doesn't mind because she knows she'll see the girl later anyway.

* * *

Quinn walks into the spacious theater before spotting Rachel on the second row. She sits right beside her and offers her a playful smile.

"We have to quit meeting like this."

"Dork," Quinn replies jokingly with a laugh. "That's supposed to be my line."

Rachel hums a reply before looking toward the stage. "This play is…not that great," she says carefully.

Quinn's shoulders shake with barely contained laughter. "Why can't you just say that it sucks?"

"Because I'm not mean. Unlike you."

"You are, however, as tactless as me."

Rachel's nose scrunches up cutely and Quinn resists the urge to lean forward and kiss it. Though she wonders what Rachel would do if she did. "Tactless?"

"Lacking tact."

"I know what it means, Fabray," Rachel says, folding her arms before facing away from the blonde. "And I am not tactless."

Quinn doesn't even have to see her face to know that she's sporting the most adorable pout. She leans forward and places her lips directly against Rachel's ear. "You kind of are. But it's okay. I'm sure there's got to be _something _redeeming about you."

Rachel shivers as she feels those soft lips caress her skin with every word Quinn breathes into her ear. The innuendo of the blonde's last statement isn't lost on her and wills her traitorous body to move, feeling warm all over.

"Quinn," she hoarsely grinds out.

"Hmm?" she hums against the shell of Rachel's ear, enjoying each and every reaction she provokes from the girl.

Rachel forces quick breaths through her nose, choosing to ignore the simmering fire in her belly. "We need to run lines. Now. R-right now."

"Okay," Quinn says just a little too loudly near Rachel's ear before she hops out of her seat. "Come on, Rachel."

She gets up out of her seat, glaring at Quinn's back as she follows the blonde on stage. "Do you have your script?"

"I know my lines."

Rachel looks around on the stage, searching for something.

"What is it?" Quinn asks.

Spotting what she was looking for, she walks toward the edge of the stage to grab the blanket. She brings it back over to where Quinn is before spreading it out on the stage. She kneels carefully before lying back, stretching her legs in front of her and rising on her elbows.

"What are you…oh. _Oh._"

"Don't get any ideas," Rachel replies. "I'm simply choosing to test this scene out without the presence of Mr. Schuester because perhaps performing it in front of him without prior rehearsal would be problematic for you."

"Is that your roundabout way of saying I have performance anxiety?"

Rachel doesn't respond and Quinn eyes her carefully as she lies back against the blanket, chocolate brown hair spread tantalizingly above her. Her eyes roam across the serene look on Rachel's face, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, her flat, toned stomach, short skirt, impossibly long legs.

"Your line, Quinn."

"Are you sure your parents won't come home?" she asks nervously, hands fidgeting with the hem of her skirt.

Rachel bats her eyelashes and replies around a coquettish grin. "C'mon already, Brooke. I told you we have at least three hours to ourselves. Don't waste time by standing at my door being scared!"

Quinn stares down at the smoldering look Rachel gives her, having a difficult time already with separating the brunette from her character.

When she doesn't move, Rachel sits up on her knees, slowly undoing a single button on her blouse. "You don't want me?" she pouts and Quinn finds it harder and harder to remember her lines.

She walks a little closer to Rachel, looking down at her. "Of course I want you," she breathes.

Rachel lies back again, one arm raised high above her head, hand falling limply against the blanket as another teasingly undoes button after button on her blouse. "Then take me."

The words are barely out of her mouth before Quinn is looming over her predatorily. Rachel stares up into Quinn's eyes, noticing how much darker and dangerous they look. The familiar heat from earlier returns to her and she's stuck between pushing Quinn off before this goes any further and wanting to feel just how soft her lips actually are.

"I love you."

"Alyssa," Quinn adds belatedly, mentally chastising herself. "I love you, Alyssa."

Rachel smiles shyly up at her, more so at Quinn's slip up than at her character smiling at Brooke's declaration. "If you love me," Rachel says softly, unsure of whom she's speaking to anymore, Quinn or Brooke. "Then show me."

Quinn cups the back of Rachel's head gently before lowering her head and bringing their lips together. She hears Rachel instantly moan at the contact and it does nothing but spur her on. Her left hand grips tightly onto the hair at the base of Rachel's neck while her right rests gently on her hip.

Rachel whimpers quietly into Quinn's mouth, once again darting her tongue to run along her lower lip. Quinn releases a low growl that travels straight down between Rachel's thighs and her hips rise off the blanket on their own accord.

Quinn's hand slowly travels up Rachel's stomach, under her unbuttoned shirt to feel smooth, creamy skin under her fingertips. She has enough of her mind left to remember that this is the scene where she gets to touch one of Rachel's breasts. And since they're both too far gone at the moment Quinn reasons just a touch won't hurt.

The pad of her thumb brushes against the underside of Rachel's breast before enveloping the full weight of her in her hand and Quinn groans against Rachel's mouth when she feels Rachel bite her lip.

Rachel pulls away from the kiss, panting hot breaths into the air above her as Quinn continues her exploration. She feels hot all over, sticky and swollen and she had every intention on stopping this a few minutes ago. She really did. But between the dark look in Quinn's eyes and the warm fingers traveling along her torso she lost herself.

"Fuck," she hisses out, head tossed back as Quinn sharply pinches her nipple. She whimpers quietly when the pad of Quinn's thumb roughly brushes over her abused nipple, biting her lip to keep from calling the blonde's name. She feels Quinn's labored breaths on the side of her neck as small kisses are peppered along her skin.

Quinn's eyes roll into the back of her head when her hand finally slides under Rachel's bra. Her palm brushes over the hard nipple that she'd been tweaking earlier through a barrier and she feels herself soak at the feeling. She feels like a horny high schooler that dry humped their boyfriend or girlfriend in the basement of their parent's home when no one was there. And all she knows is that Rachel, somebody, anybody better stop her now because she's dangerously close to throwing caution to the wind and just taking Rachel on stage.

As if someone had been reading her mind, a loud clearing of someone's throat catches her attention.

She stops moving, discretely removing her hand from under Rachel's bra to turn her head to look at the intruder. She keeps hovering over Rachel, wanting to preserve the girl's dignity as much as possible.

"Sorry I was late girls, I had to take my car to the shop," Mr. Schuester says from somewhere behind Quinn.

Rachel carefully extricates herself from under the blonde, ignoring Quinn's confused face as she stands up. "It's quite alright, Mr. Schuester," she says, voice surprising calm. She carefully buttons her shirt back up and Quinn watches with awe as they both continue their conversation as if she hadn't been in here trying to get Rachel off. Of course, Mr. Schuester may not have known that but Rachel certainly did if the way she was moaning like there was no tomorrow was any indication. "I was simply going over the love making scene with Quinn while no one was around to get her acquainted with the scene without the awkwardness of a third party viewer."

Quinn swallows the lump in her throat, still not trusting herself to speak.

"I think that's an excellent idea, Rachel," Mr. Schuester says with a smile. "And how about you, Quinn? Did this help? I don't want you feeling uncomfortable with the scene and if you do then we can easily put your understudy in. We'd have to change the angle so her face isn't visible to the audience but we can make that work if that's what you need."

Rachel stares at her attentively and Quinn clears her throat before speaking. "No I'm fine, Mr. Schuester." Quinn mentally face palms at how low her voice sounds but she doesn't miss how Rachel licks her lips. "Rachel's technique of getting me to do the scene while no one was watching helped me out quite a bit. I think I'm confident enough to perform it in front of an audience."

He nods, albeit little unsurely. "Okay! Well, looks like you've both rehearsed enough for the day. I won't put you through too much torture. So you're free to go. And I will see both of you again on Thursday."

Rachel offers a curt nod before quickly hopping off the stage. Quinn follows suit, vaguely aware of Mr. Schuester leaving in the opposite direction as she grabs Rachel's arm and spins her around. "What, Quinn?"

"What was that back there?"

Rachel removes her hand from Quinn's grip and takes a few steps back to put distance between them. "I'd say that was you nearly taking me on stage."

"Yeah, and I'd say that you liked it," Quinn counters. "Rachel I think that it's become really obvious that you have feelings for me. I'm not an idiot." Her eyebrow rises delicately as if daring Rachel to refute her.

"What do you want, Quinn?" she sighs tiredly, sick of playing this cat and mouse game.

"Go out with me, Berry," she responds heatedly as she takes a step closer.

Rachel scoffs as she crosses her arms. "Is that your way of asking?"

Quinn's tension eases as they effortlessly fall back into familiar banter. She walks even closer to Rachel until all the brunette can see in her vision is a pair of hazel eyes that seem to penetrate everything she is. Both of her hands lift to the side of Rachel's face as she gently cups both of her cheeks in her hand.

"Will you go out with me, Rachel?" she asks softly because yeah, if Rachel wants everything to be formal and wants Quinn to play it by fairytale then Quinn can at least try to be that person for her.

One of Rachel's hands lift to cover Quinn's own as she tries her hardest not to get lost in Quinn's eyes. "Why do you want to go out with me so badly?"

"Because." She gently strokes Rachel's cheek and smiles gently down at her when Rachel's eyes flutter shut. "You're beautiful, smart, incredibly talented and extremely irritating."

Rachel's eyes fly open at the insult and Quinn laughs softly at the incredulous expression on her face. "I like you."

"I'd even say you love me hmm, Fabray?" she replies with a raised eyebrow and Quinn flushes slightly, remembering how she butchered her lines on stage earlier.

"I'm not asking for your hand in marriage," she continues. "I just want you to go on a date with me this Saturday."

Rachel deliberates a moment, her mouth twisted up in such a way that has Quinn imagining kissing her again. "I guess," she exhales a moment later.

Quinn feels her hackles rise but she refuses to let Rachel get to her. Instead she leans in for a kiss.

…And her lips meet air.

A feminine giggle snaps her out of her stupor and she opens her eyes to see Rachel walking away.

"Okay. You think you're funny, Berry? Well then walk back to your apartment by yourself!" She scurries out of the theater before Rachel gets the chance to implement her notorious pout that she knows Quinn can't resist.

* * *

Rachel reaches the steps of her dorm, fishing out her cell phone to alert Quinn to the fact that she had indeed been pouting the entire way and that the blonde should feel bad about herself. She strolls up the steps to her apartment, surprised to see Kurt and Mercedes standing there with miffed expressions.

"We've been here for fifteen minutes," Kurt tells her.

"You're late," Mercedes chimes in.

Rachel feels her phone vibrate in her pocket as she unlocks her door. "I was unaware that I had a curfew," she jokes. "To what do I owe the pleasure of my two best friends visiting?"

She drops her keys on a nearby table before plucking her phone from her pocket.

_**I bet you looked cute stomping across campus with your arms folded and your lip poked out**_

Rolling her eyes, she puts her phone on her nightstand as Kurt and Mercedes situate themselves on her bed. "Rachel, you know we love you, right?" Kurt starts.

"And you know we've had your back since we were first years here, right?" Mercedes continues.

"O-of course." She eases down onto the bed as well, having been caught off guard by how grave their voices are. "What is all of this about?"

They look at each other, wondering how best to start. "Well you know how we wanted you to go with us to the party?" Mercedes prompts.

Rachel nods. "And I informed you that I would not be in attendance due to homework."

"And you know how Kurt and I went to the party anyway?'

"Yes."

"Well, you see…" she trails off, looking to Kurt for help.

"Oh, for goodness sakes," he exclaims. "Rachel, we saw Quinn being led upstairs to do horrid things with some other girl."

She's quiet for the moment as she tries to process the words. Quinn? Her Quinn? Well, not _her _Quinn, but the very same Quinn that's been trying to charm her for weeks? "W-what? Are you certain it was Quinn?"

"We're sure, Rachel," he continues. "Mercedes and I were drunk and there are a ton of blonde girls at this school so we weren't certain at first. But after seeing you walking with her today, we both remembered her from the party and she was definitely linked at the hand with some girl that we earlier today found out is named Ashley."

Rachel takes a deep calming breath, feeling her chest constrict with the effort. "How did you figure all of this out?"

"In the dining hall. You should try coming sometime."

Mercedes puts a hand on Kurt's shoulder to silence him, knowing that he isn't the most sympathetic friend when it comes to people's feelings. He nods before standing from the bed, deciding to rummage through Rachel's closet and throw away some of her outdated clothes instead.

"I don't understand," Rachel murmurs quietly, looking toward Mercedes.

She smiles kindly at Rachel. "We went to the dining hall today to dig up some dirt on her to see if she was good for you, Rachel. Kurt and I got the vibe that you liked her so we wanted to do a background check. And it turns out that she gets around."

Her lips turn down as she absorbs the information being presented to her. This didn't at all seem like the Quinn she knew. Sure, Quinn often flirted with her, but the blonde didn't seem to be the type for random hookups and flings. Heart clenching in pain that she wasn't even aware she could feel towards this information, she wills her eyes to hold contact with Mercedes if only to not show weakness.

"No one knows much about her high school life, just that she and her roommate, Santana Lopez, came here together so everyone assumes they've been friends for a while. Santana's a lot more open about her sex life. She sleeps around with guys or girls; doesn't matter to her. But there's this one girl named Brittany that everyone swears up and down Santana's a completely different person around. Nicer, more affectionate–"

"Can we get to Quinn, please?" Rachel asks quietly.

Mercedes hesitates before continuing. "Quinn hasn't had a single relationship since she's been here. Everything she does is under the radar with no strings attached. No one knows for sure how many girls she's hooked up with but I got a couple of names. Ashley, the girl from the party. And another girl named Chloe. Apparently there were two other girls last year and depending on who you ask she also has something going on with number 20 on the football team. Noah Puckerman."

Rachel feels her heart slowly shatter and it startles her how much she's grown to care about the blonde without even her own knowledge of the fact. "Why haven't I heard about any of this? If she's going around sleeping with half the campus then why isn't anyone talking about it?" Rachel knows that accusing the blonde with sleeping with so many people is a low blow but she's hurt and doesn't care.

"Because she plays it smart," Mercedes as conspiringly, sucked into the gossip as if it were a juicy mystery. "She only hooks up with people in her year because she knows she can control what gossip comes out about her and what stays behind closed doors. There was once a rumor going around that she dated a guy that was her twin brother in high school and she still walked around with her head held high as if it were nothing."

"Did she date her twin brother?" Rachel asks with a disgusted face.

"Get this," Kurt says with excitement in his eyes as he rejoins the conversation. "She doesn't even _have_ a twin brother. And there was another rumor going around that Santana made it up to give people something to talk about instead of the fact that Quinn was filthy drunk at a party one time and made out with anything that moved."

Rachel sits back on her heels, further disgusted with the blonde that she had agreed to go out with. She reprimands herself for putting her heart on the line for someone that apparently only wants her for what she has between her legs. She can't help but ask herself what was she thinking. Hadn't Quinn been into her? Wasn't she hanging all over her since they met? The flirting, the friendly banter, did it mean nothing? She shakes her head. It seems as if she means nothing to Quinn.

"She's charming," Kurt finishes. "That's the biggest difference between her and Santana. The difference that puts her on top and Santana just below her."

Rachel nods in agreement. Yes, Quinn Fabray is charming. But for Rachel Berry, the charm has worn off.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **Someone I've Been Missing (The Better Half of Me)

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray Rachel Berry; side Brittany/Santana

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU/Future fic. Quinn, a rising sophomore in college, meets Rachel for the first time just before the school term begins. An argument between them leaves Rachel wanting nothing more than to forget that Quinn even exists. But she soon finds out that she can't get rid of the determined blonde that easily.

A/N: A huge, huge thank you to everyone that reviewed last chapter! I think last chapter garnered the most reviews thus far, so thank you for that. :)

* * *

"I hate you," Quinn whimpers. She sneezes for what she's sure is the hundredth time. "I hate you. I hate you. I _hate _you." She coughs lightly, chest rattling with each breath. She just knew that Santana sneezing on her neck a few days ago was going to come back to bite her in the ass.

"Yeah, yeah. I got it the first time, blondie." Santana sits down in a chair beside Quinn's bed, filing her nails as she regards the blonde carefully. "And you better not re-gift that mono I gave you either."

Quinn groans before turning on her side and away from her tormenter. "Has Rachel returned any of my calls yet?"

Santana picks up her phone off her nightstand and runs through it. "Nope. But you have four text messages from Chloe and Ashley."

"I don't care," she whines. "I just want Rachel to call." She flings the covers away from her body, flailing onto her back, suddenly feeling hot. "I think she's mad at me because I couldn't take her on that date I promised her."

"Are you sure that's all it is?" Santana asks doubtfully. "Chick's been avoiding you for days."

"Why else would she avoid me though?" Quinn asks before breaking out into a coughing fit. "Ouch," she grunts, having hurt herself with the simple effort of coughing.

Santana hands her a glass of juice. "I'm not sure," she muses. "Leave her a voicemail. If she has half a heart then hearing your disgusting, congested voice will send her flying over here."

"What if she's sick too?"

Her eyes widen at the question as Santana leans closer to Quinn. "And why would she be sick, Quinn?" she asks, already knowing the answer.

Quinn reddens and Santana admits it's hard to tell if the girl is actually blushing or if her fever's spiking again. "We made out–"

"Bitch! Why didn't you tell me?" Santana exclaims with a wide grin.

"It was only for the play!" she continues. "Our characters have a love scene together and Rachel thought it would be wise if I tried out scene with no one around–"

"So she could jump your bones."

"–So I wouldn't be nervous when I had to perform the scene in front of someone."

Santana's quiet for a moment as she runs over the situation in her mind. She sucks her teeth. "Sounds like she just wanted to fuck you and use that scene as an excuse."

"Well, things did get out of hand really quickly."

"Did you fuck her?'

She colors again and Santana can definitely tell it's a blush. "No, I didn't sleep with her. Mr. Schuester came in at the last second."

"Cock block."

Quinn nods her head along with what Santana says before her words register. "Hey, wait, I wasn't going to have sex with her in there."

"Why not?" she snorts. "B and I have done worse."

"We're not B and you."

"Well of course you aren't me. I'm hotter."

Quinn sighs as she lies back against the sheets, refusing to let Santana rile her up and make her use what little energy she has in an argument. She takes shallow breaths through her mouth, rib cage hurting but the only thing she can think about is Rachel. "I wonder what she's doing," she whispers a second later.

"You're sick," Santana tells her. "And you don't just have mono. You got something that's making you really weak when it comes to that Berry chick and I'm not sticking around for you to give it to me."

She stands up and shoves her nail file into her back pocket. Her eyes fall to Quinn again and she wants to kick her own ass for feeling sorry for the blonde. She looks sad and lonely and the fact that she's sick doesn't make it any better.

"Leave the voicemail."

Quinn nods before weakly reaching for her phone. Santana rolls her eyes before handing it to her.

"Gotta bounce, Q."

"Later," she rasps out before dialing Rachel's number.

* * *

"She's so annoying Brit-Brit. You should hear how much she keeps talking about that Berry chick."

"Leave her alone, San," Brittany says softly, attempting to eat her soup with a fork. Her brow furrows in confusion before she looks back up at Santana. "She really likes Rachel. I think it's sweet."

"You're sweet, B," Santana says sincerely. She offers the blonde a small smile before gently prying the fork from her hand. "You can have my spoon. I'm not gonna eat my soup anyway. I've had enough of that stuff."

Brittany smiles gratefully at her before continuing to eat her soup. Santana looks around the dining hall, suddenly realizing why she came to dinner in the first place. "Wait right here, B. I gotta take care of some business real quick."

She scours through the throng of people trying to find seats in search of a short brunette. When she finds her, she breathes a sigh of relief. "Damn, Quinn really _does _have a type," she mutters. Then much louder, "Yo, Chloe!"

Said girl's head snaps up from the book she's reading to stare at Santana. "Hi," she says cautiously.

"You're coming with me." She yanks the girl from her seat and Chloe barely has time to put her book down before she's being tugged behind Santana. "Now those two people that came to talk to you. What were their names?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Santana," the girl replies nervously.

Santana looks back at her with a wry expression. "People talk, Chloe. I know all about you blabbing on Quinn and I'm not mad. In fact, that's something Quinn has to deal with, not me. I just want you to give me names and help me find the two people you were talking to."

"Um…"

"Perhaps I should refresh your memory. A fat girl and a gay kid. Listen, I don't have all day here, Chloe. Either help me or get lost."

She stops in her tracks to whirl around and face the girl, placing her hands on her hips. "What were their names?"

Her eyes find the floor as she nervously shifts from foot to foot. "Mercedes and Kurt," she mumbles.

"Now we're getting somewhere," Santana grits out before grabbing her arm again. "We're going to walk around this entire dining hall through every row and when you see them you point them out to me, got it?"

She doesn't even wait for the girl to respond before Santana is dragging her around again. "What did you tell them?"

"N-nothing." She adjusts her glasses before looking around to see if she can spot them.

"I'm not an idiot, Chloe and I wasn't born yesterday. What. Did. You. Tell them?"

"I told them that Quinn isn't really the type to commit. And that's not a lie because Quinn's told me that herself."

"What else?'

"That she and Puck might have…" she trails off.

"Do you know that for a fact?" Santana growls.

"No, but he flirts and–"

"Puckerman flirts with anything with a vagina. And here's a fact for you. Q and Puck have never had sex, hell they've never even made out before. So before you go spreading shit around get your facts straight."

She nods her head, not quite meeting Santana's eyes. "They're over there," she points.

Santana looks over at the table. "Fat girl and gay kid. Matches the description. Good job, Chloe. Hope Quinn doesn't demolish your lack luster reputation entirely." She sends the girl an evil grin that would make the Grinch jealous before sauntering off.

"Mercedes and Kurt."

Santana sits down beside Kurt, opposite Mercedes, making herself comfortable. "I'm Santana. But I'm sure you already know that considering how much snooping you've both been doing on Quinn and be."

"We finally meet," Kurt says easily as he side eyes her. "I have to admit you aren't nearly as intimidating as your peers make you out to me."

"Forgive me," Santana says flippantly. "I've been sick and haven't filed my talons in a while. But make no mistake, I can and_ will_ end you if you push me any more than you already have."

"What do you want, Lopez?" Mercedes asks from across the table.

"Keep your big noses out of mine and Q's business," she sneers coldly.

"Sorry but no can do. Rachel seems to like Quinn for whatever reason and we don't want to see our friend hurt."

Santana scoffs as she leans forward in her seat. "Quinn can't even hurt a fly in her condition right now. She swears she's on her death bed which is the second reason why I'm here. Tell Berry to stop ignoring my friend's calls and get her ass over to my apartment to visit her!"

"Rachel wants nothing to do with Quinn," Mercedes retorts. "All we've ever heard of Quinn is how she whores it up at this school."

"Watch yourself, Weezy," Santana growls as she stands up to threateningly lean over the table. "You don't know the first thing about Quinn so I'd shut my mouth if I were you before I stick my foot in it."

"And what? Get expelled?" she asks while lifting a challenging eyebrow.

Santana deflates a little, knowing that if she actually did lift a finger then she'd be sent back to Lima, Ohio by the end of the night. "Rachel needs to visit Quinn," she grits out.

"Why?"

"Because Quinn's crazy about her! And it's driving _me_ crazy! I didn't know she could spend so much time droning on and on about one person. I've never seen her like this which is how I know she really cares for Rachel. I don't know what they're date would have been today but I know Quinn. She's sentimental on the inside so I know whatever she had planned was going to be special."

Kurt catches Mercedes eye with a meaningful look. They're both suckers for romance and sappy stories.

"We'll see what we can do," Mercedes offers a moment later.

Santana nods. She walks to the next table over, snatching a sheet of paper out of a stranger's notebook, ignoring the indignant outcry from the paper's owner. "Gimme a pen, Jack McFarland." Kurt searches through his Louis Vuitton bag before handing her a pen. She quickly scribbles her building name and room number on a sheet of paper before handing it to Kurt. "If she isn't by Quinn's bedside before the day is over I'm finding both of you guys somewhere off campus and ripping you new assholes," she promises before storming away.

* * *

Rachel knocks quietly on the door, double checking that she has the right address before shoving the piece of paper into her pocket. She waits for a moment, sighs quietly and raises her hand to knock again but the door flies open.

"Thought I'd make you wait like you've been making Q wait for days now," Santana says as she looks down at Rachel. "You're short."

"Are you going to invite me in?" Rachel asks. "I would introduce myself but it seems you already know who I am."

"Yeah, pretty much." She leans back against the door and Rachel stays where she is on the doorstep. "You're _really_ short."

"Yes and you're rude," Rachel counters peevishly, choosing to once again ignore the comment about her height. That's not an argument she sees herself winning. "May I come in now?"

"Why should you?"

Her brow furrows and Rachel vaguely wonders who made a worse first impression, Quinn or her roommate. "Because you asked me to come."

"Wrong answer, midget. Your answer should have been _I want to see how Quinn is doing because I actually give a damn about her_."

"I do care about her," Rachel says softly. "How is she?"

Santana turns her back and walks into the room. "Find out for yourself." She gestures to her right towards Quinn's door and Rachel steps inside and closes the door behind her before walking into Quinn's room. She silently closes the door behind her before making her way over to Quinn's bedside.

"Quinn?" she asks timidly.

Quinn groans before turning over slowly. She sluggishly opens her eyes to see concerned chocolate eyes staring back at her. "You're here," she rasps.

Rachel huffs out a weak laugh at how the blonde greets her with a warm smile as if Rachel's the only thing she's been waiting on all day. "I'm here," she whispers back.

"How are you feeling?" she asks as she places a gentle hand on her forehead. Instantly alarmed, her eyes widen as she stands up. "You're burning up, Quinn! We must take you to the on campus nurse or to Patient First with an actual doctor–"

"I'm fine, really." She sneezes painfully and Rachel sits back down in her seat, quickly rummaging through her purse.

"I already went to the nurse and I have my medication," Quinn assures. She gestures weakly to the medicine on her nightstand. Rachel gently grabs the blonde's hands and dabs hand sanitizer on it. "You have to be proactive against this infection, Quinn. Rub the hand sanitizer in thoroughly."

Quinn looks at Rachel with a pitiful expression that the brunette can't help but be charmed by. She rolls her eyes playfully before grabbing the blonde's hands and helping her rub the hand sanitizer in.

"_She's charming. That's the biggest difference between her and Santana. The difference that puts her on top and Santana just below her."_

Kurt's words replay loudly in Rachel's mind and she frowns softly, remembering all of the things she learned about Quinn a few days ago. She's still on the fence about the blonde. She knows she has feelings for her but she's not so sure about Quinn's feelings or how faithful Quinn would even be in a relationship.

_Stop getting ahead of yourself, _Rachel tells herself. _She never asked you to be her girlfriend, just to go on a date with her. A date that she probably hoped would end with sex._

She feels a warm hand, a _very _warm hand gently touch her face before Quinn places her thumb against the middle of Rachel's forehead to smooth her wrinkles. "What's wrong?"

Rachel forces a tense smile as she gently grabs Quinn's hand and settles it in her lap. "Nothing. What did the nurse diagnose you with?"

Quinn tightens her hand against Rachel's grip as much as her weakened state would allow. "Mono."

Rachel's mouth opens and closes in her best in personation of a fish and Quinn feels she might short circuit. "Mono? Mono as in mononucleosis? The kissing disease?"

Quinn pauses, knowing exactly what's implied when someone calls mono the kissing disease. "Hold on," she coughs out as she struggles to sit up against her headboard. "It's not like that. I got it from Santana."

Rachel's out of her seat in an instant, standing with her arms across her chest as she looks down at Quinn. For her part, Quinn just gulps quietly, knowing she's just dug herself into possibly the deepest hole. "Have you been engaging in activities with your roommate that would warrant an exchange of mucous and/or other bodily fluids?"

"No but–"

"Then how, pray tell, would you contract mono from her, Quinn?" she asks evenly.

"She sneezed on me!" Quinn shrieks suddenly, surprising them both. "I didn't kiss her, Rachel. I was taking care of San after a class before B would come and take over and Santana sneezed on me. I didn't kiss her, Rachel. I wouldn't lie to you," she explains, a slight whine in her voice that she can't control.

Rachel takes a deep breath as she allows Quinn's words to sink in. She wonders where the hell she's coming from with so much hostility. Quinn isn't even her girlfriend. They're not committed to each other. Yet Quinn's quick to defend herself as if they really have made the transition from friends to girlfriends.

She watches the blonde take labored breaths and she hands her the juice on the night stand. "You need to lie back down," she tells her in a surprisingly gentle voice considering what's just transpired. Quinn only nods and Rachel carefully pulls back the covers as Quinn sinks back into bed. She places the covers back over her body and tucks the blanket neatly under the blonde's chin. "You believe me, don't you, Rachel?" she asks as Rachel pulls back.

She heaves a heavy sigh before sinking back into her seat. "I don't know what to believe anymore, Quinn," she mutters.

Her eyes catch Rachel's and for the first time since she's showed up Quinn can see the conflict and turmoil swimming in Rachel eyes. "Someone's said something to you," she says in a controlled voice.

"What would there be to say, Quinn?"

"Okay," she says quietly. She removes her hands from under the covers, suddenly feeling defensive. "Let's have this conversation because apparently we can't move forward until we do."

"Tell me everything you've heard. And I'll either tell you it's true or it's a lie," she continues, meeting Rachel's gaze with a burning intensity that Rachel almost shies away from. Almost.

Rachel leans back in her chair and crosses her legs in an attempt to act aloof as if this conversation doesn't have the potential to break her heart.

Quinn's chest feels tight and compressed and she isn't so sure it's because she's sick.

"You haven't had a girlfriend since attending this university. Is that true?"

"That's true," she admits easily.

"How many girls have you had sex with, Quinn?"

She blushes at how bluntly the question is delivered but soldiers on. "I've had sex with two girls, Rachel," she responds honestly.

She nods. After having talked to Kurt and Mercedes she thought the number would have been much higher. She mentally rolls her eyes at her friends and their gossiping but still believing that ever rumor contains at least an iota of truth.

"How many men have you had sex with?"

The questions are fired at her one by one and Quinn's trying her best to make sure that she doesn't hesitate or slip up because she knows that one false move and Rachel's out of the door. Plus, she has her own integrity on the line that she's fighting for. "One."

"Is that man Noah Puckerman?"

She snorts indelicately but sobers up at Rachel's grave expression. "Not ever."

"Have you had sex since school began?"

"Uh…yes."

"Did you have sex at Noah Puckerman's most recent party with a girl named Ashley?"

"Geez Berry, spy much?"

Rachel's decidedly unimpressed with Quinn's attempt at humor and her arms folded tightly across her chest alert the blonde to such. "No, I didn't have sex with her at that party. I was going to," she continues honestly. "But I didn't go through with it."

"Why?"

She looks over to Rachel with cloudy, expressive eyes and exhales quietly. "Because I was thinking about you. And how I treated you. And how I acted like a complete ass. I was wondering if I had lost my chance to go on a date with you."

Her words weigh heavily in the air and Rachel swallows against the lump in her throat, feeling smothered because of all the tension in the room.

"Why don't you do relationships, Quinn?" Her voice sounds a lot more pleading than she'd have liked but the question is out now so she just waits for Quinn to answer it.

"Rachel, where are you getting your information from?" Quinn asks with exasperation. "Who told you that?"

"Apparently you told Chloe that," she retorts.

"I–" She cuts herself off, suddenly remembering her conversation with Chloe. "Oh, I remember," she mutters. She sits up quickly, wincing as her aching muscles protest before patting the space beside her. "Come here, Rachel."

"I like where I am just fine, thank you."

"Rachel, will you please just sit down with me? I'm trying to have this conversation properly and you're not making it any easier."

"Well maybe I'm not easy."

Quinn smirks as she shakes her head back and forth. "I don't think truer words have ever been spoken."

Rachel looks at her then. "Well then if you know I'm not easy why are you trying so hard?"

"Oh, I don't know, Rachel. _Maybe _because I like you for your personality, no matter how stubborn and annoying you are. _Maybe _I want to get to know what's behind this air of confidence that you've painted on over the years. _Maybe _I want more from you than just sex but you've allowed people to fill your head with so much shit about me that now you've convinced yourself that all I want from you is sex."

Her chest heaves up and down rapidly, voice lower from exertion and Rachel's stuck between being upset about the whole situation and swooning over the blonde.

"_Maybe _I don't want to fuck you at all."

She tries to keep the wounded look off of her face. Just a second ago she was upset with the blonde for wanting to get into her pants and now she's even more upset that Quinn doesn't seem to find her desirable at all.

"_Maybe_…I want to make love to you, Rachel."

She smiles despite herself, once again charmed by the blonde. She recovers quickly, her lips pressing into a firm line as she continues to stare at Quinn. "Come sit down, Rachel."

Reluctantly, or so she makes it seem, she sits down beside Quinn on her bed, staring straight ahead.

"I told Chloe that I couldn't be in a relationship with her. She asked me why and I told her that I didn't do relationships. But that's a lie. I didn't start a relationship with her or any girl here for that matter because I didn't see anything in them that interested me enough to stick around. I didn't want to tell Chloe that because she's really sweet and I didn't want to hurt her feelings. That's why I told her that I wasn't the relationship type."

"Why weren't you interested in them? Is it because they gave it up to you so easily?" Rachel asks as she turns to Quinn. "Is it because you got what you wanted? What would have happened if I had engaged in intercourse with you in the theater? Would you have even asked me out that night?"

"Okay, I'm just going to go down the list of your questions," Quinn says hurriedly, eyes wide at the flood of loaded questions Rachel just asked. "I honestly don't believe that the reason I didn't enter into a relationship with them is because I had sex with them so early on. I just…I didn't feel anything. Ashley isn't very studious but Chloe is. She and I had intellectual conversations but there was no…spark, I guess. There was nothing about her that screamed at me to stick around."

She sees doubt in Rachel's eyes but she forges on, hoping that something will strike a chord within the older girl. "To be honest Rachel, I wouldn't have had sex with you in that theater. I wanted to. You have _no _idea how much I wanted you but I would have stopped it. I didn't want our first time together to be on a hard, wooden stage. You deserve rose pedals leading to a bed of silken sheets with candles everywhere." She blushes at her own flowery language and reaches out to grab Rachel's hand, smiling when she doesn't let go. "And I really did want to take you on that date," she continues. "I even bought you flowers and chocolate."

"I –you what?"

"They're over there," Quinn says as she points to a table in the farthest corner of her room.

Rachel slowly walks over to the table as if one false move would cause the flowers and chocolates to disappear. Her eyes mist over as she gingerly picks up the dozen roses and box of chocolates, carefully reading the label. "They're vegan friendly," she murmurs. She bites her lip softly before turning back to Quinn. "Oh, Quinn…" she whispers with so much emotion. "I hate these."

Quinn groans loudly before rolling over away from the brunette. "This isn't at all what I was expecting," she mutters.

"No, you misunderstand," Rachel tells her before carefully setting the flowers and chocolates back on the table and walking over to Quinn.

"It's okay, Rachel. Just let me bask in my failure for a little bit."

"No, Quinn listen to me."

"I don't think I've ever felt this low."

"Quinn, this is important."

"I wonder if suffocation is painful because I can easily turn my face into this pillow and wait for death to take me."

"Okay, now you're just being dramatic."

"And you," Quinn turns back around, ignoring the pain in her body to point an accusatory finger in Rachel's direction. "You…are crying. Rachel, honey what are you doing to me?" she asks wearily.

She wipes her eyes roughly before offering a watery smile. "I can ask you the same question, Quinn Fabray."

Quinn peels her covers back to reach her arms out towards Rachel who instantly takes the offer, sliding under the covers and into Quinn's arms. "It's okay," Quinn whispers as Rachel curls into her body, tucking her head under her chin. Quinn kisses the top of her head before gently stroking her hair. "Some couples argue a lot. I think we'd be one of those."

Rachel laughs softly, wrapping her arms around the blonde and inhaling a shaky breath. "I watched a lot of romantic comedies on Friday nights in high school. While all of my female peers were out on dates with my male peers, Rachel Berry was in her house, in her room, watching the latest Jennifer Aniston film, or Jennifer Love Hewitt, or whoever else had a film out."

"I –I've never received chocolates or roses before. But I had watched so many movies with the premise of girl gets dressed for a date and guy shows up on her door step in a suit with a bouquet of roses and a heart shaped box of chocolates. I'd grown immune to something that's supposed to be so romantic. Something that's supposed to woo me now has no effect. And only serves to remind me of my days in high school when I had no girlfriend _or _boyfriend. Or _any_ friendsfor that matter."

"Well, that's not true," she continues with a sniffle. "I had a boyfriend senior year. He was captain of the football team and quarterback. He always said that he wasn't ashamed of being with me but he never took me out."

Quinn unconsciously tightens her hold on Rachel, anger flaring up at how someone could mistreat her. Rachel cuddles further into her, sighing contentedly.

"I suppose that's why I've been giving you a hard time. I'm not used to someone expressing such great interest in me the way you do, Quinn. You actively pursue me every day and I've never experienced anything like that. I doubted you and your intentions. And then when I heard those rumors it only further solidified the thought that you simply wanted to bed me for whatever reason then move on."

Quinn continues to stroke Rachel's hair, her heart sympathetically breaking for Rachel and how little faith she has in people actually being interested in her. She holds her tongue, sensing Rachel wasn't finished.

"I'm sorry, Quinn," she says remorsefully as she pulls back to look up at the blonde. "You're so sweet and you're trying so hard and I just keep giving you a hard time. The flowers are lovely and I'm sure the chocolates are splendid. I'm just so…I don't know."

Quinn tucks a lock of hair behind Rachel's ear as her eyes roam over her face. "You're beautiful," she finally says softly. "I have to say that I've been dying to see what you're like under all that bravado and now I finally get to see. You're just a little girl."

"I'm older than you, Fabray," she deadpans with a nasally voice.

"Barely," she scoffs.

Rachel hesitates slightly before leaning up and placing a chaste, lingering kiss against Quinn's lips. "I'm going to get you sick," Quinn mumbles when she pulls away.

"Improbable," Rachel responds a little too smugly for the blonde's liking before once again resting her head against Quinn's collar bone. "I take vitamin supplements twice a day, drink a glass of orange juice every morning, and I eat a banana with breakfast each day."

"Well aren't you healthy?" Quinn snarkily replies.

They stay cuddled up together like that for an hour longer, seemingly talking about nothing and everything until Quinn goes silent, her chest rising and falling with even breaths notifying Rachel that she's asleep.

She gently pulls away from the blonde's body, noticing how much cooler she feels now that her temperature's broken. She places a gentle kiss against Quinn's forehead before silently walking across the floor to grab her jacket.

Quinn stirs and when Rachel turns around half lidded hazel eyes are staring back at her.

"Stay the night," Quinn whines and Rachel's heart instantly melts.

"I can't tonight, Quinn," she murmurs. "I still have homework I haven't yet attended to that's due noon tomorrow."

Quinn nods sympathetically, knowing just how important homework is and not trying to guilt Rachel into getting a zero on an assignment just to spend the night with her.

"Come over tomorrow?" she asks instead.

She offers a bright smile. "I certainly will."

Quinn's eyes shut briefly on their own accord and when she opens them again Rachel's carrying the flowers and chocolates in her hand. "Rachel, if you don't want those you don't have to–"

"This is the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me," she responds candidly. "I want them, Quinn. I'll put the flowers in a vase full of water and eat the chocolate that I'm sure tastes delicious."

Her eyes close again and this time she doesn't have the strength left to lift her heavy lids. "I want another kiss," she whispers.

Seconds later she feels a feather light kiss against her lips, both of her cheeks, her nose, then her forehead. "Good night, Quinn," Rachel whispers against her ear before pulling back.

And Quinn thinks she says it back before falling asleep. She's a little unsure. But one thing she's sure of is that Rachel Berry is the most amazing person she's ever met.


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: **Someone I've Been Missing (The Better Half of Me)

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU/Future fic. Quinn, a rising sophomore in college, meets Rachel for the first time just before the school term begins. An argument between them leaves Rachel wanting nothing more than to forget that Quinn even exists. But she soon finds out that she can't get rid of the determined blonde that easily. 

* * *

"I would just like to take this opportunity to remind you that you still have not taken me on our date," Rachel says from her spot on her bed.

"Oh come on Rach, you know I've been busy with homework and classes," Quinn mumbles beside the brunette, her words muffled by the pencil in her mouth. She's concentrating on taking notes from her business textbook, the class being the excuse she used on Rachel to get a chance to get into the brunette's apartment. Her lovely, roommate _free _apartment.

They're professor had assigned a project, the guidelines being to find a partner in the class, research how to create a successful business conglomerate from the ground up and present the material to the class in any media format. Quinn quickly turned to Rachel without hesitation and when the brunette suggested that they present the information in the form of classy show tunes, complete with intricate musical numbers and jazz hands, Quinn almost opted out of their partnership. They had finally reached a middle ground and agreed on a PowerPoint presentation and Quinn couldn't have been happier.

"I am merely informing you so that in the future when you ask me to be your girlfriend and I turn you down you will know that it is because you haven't properly courted me."

Quinn groans as she peels her eyes away from her text book to look at Rachel. She's typing furiously at her computer, dressed in nothing but a tight camisole that Quinn swears that from certain angles she can see her nipples straining through the top, and a pair of pajama bottoms. Her hair is piled atop her head in the sexiest, messiest ponytail that Quinn's ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. She clears her throat to get Rachel's attention. Chocolate eyes find hers and Quinn licks her lips before speaking. "This Saturday I'll take you out off campus somewhere and this time I promise."

Rachel smiles brightly and leans forward to place a firm kiss against Quinn's lips. Quinn's fingers instantly curl into her hair before Rachel pulls away. She's always amazed at how soft Rachel's lips are. How perfectly her pouty bottom lip fits in between both of hers and how wonderfully tantalizing Rachel's moans sound while vibrating off of her own lips. Her fingers slide along Rachel's cheek before teasing a burning trail down the smooth expanse of her throat to the valley of her breasts. She cups the soft mound of flesh in her hand and squeezes gently, shifting in her seat as Rachel groans quietly.

Rachel pulls away, grabbing Quinn's wrist and pulling her hand away from her breast to lie on the bed between them. "Where will we be going?" she pants through kiss swollen lips, her hooded eyes regarding Quinn with a burning stare.

Quinn returns her smile and licks the strawberry lip gloss off her lips. "It's a surprise." 

* * *

Quinn rushes around her room nervously as she prepares for her date with Rachel. Her clock mocks her every move as it counts down a lot quicker that Quinn had anticipated. Once the alarm goes off then it'll be time for her to pick up Rachel. And Quinn knows that if she's even a minute late she'll be faced with the biggest pout known to man and the longest lecture on punctuality to boot.

"Where the fuck are my earrings?" she growls before storming out of her room into the common space. "Brit have you seen Santana?"

Brittany looks around her before her wide, blue eyes find Quinn again. "She was here earlier," she says with a frown. "I don't know where she could have gone. Oh! She must have gone to get my ice cream."

Quinn runs her hands through her hair, frustrated. "Well do you know what she did with my gold hoops?"

"Sure I do!" she exclaims before hopping off the couch and jogging into Santana's room. She emerges with the earrings in her hand a moment later before handing them to Quinn. "You're a life saver," she rushes out before walking to the mirror in the hallway to put them on.

"I thought I was Brittany."

Quinn chuckles a little. "You sure are, B," she says warmly.

Her hands shake nervously as she tries to put her earrings in her ear unsuccessfully. This date will undoubtedly determine her future with Rachel and as Quinn finds herself caring about the brunette more and more with each passing day she can't help but hope the date ends in her favor.

"Ouch," she whispers harshly as she just misses the hole in her ear and stabs the skin above it.

She rubs the spot sorely, not even bothering to protest when Brittany walks over and gently pries the earrings from her grip. She turns around to her friend and offers a grateful smile as Brittany leans down and calmly puts her earrings in for her. "Thanks, Brit."

Brittany smiles and places a friendly kiss against Quinn's cheek. "You look super pretty, Quinn."

"Let's hope Rachel thinks so," she jokes, butterflies fluttering in her stomach as her thoughts are taken back to Rachel again.

"She will," Brittany says assuredly before prancing back to her seat.

Quinn grabs her jacket from the hook by the door before walking back to her room to look at her clock. She grabs her keys on her nightstand and walks back into the common space. "Looks like I have ten more minutes." She walks over to the couch and sits beside Brittany to watch TV with her in hopes of calming her nerves.

Moments later she decidedly doesn't want to watch TV and side eyes her friend on the couch before finally gathering the courage to speak. "Hey, B?"

"Yeah, Q," Brittany replies distractedly as she watches _iCarly_.

Her hands fidget with the hem off her purple floral dress as she tries to word her question as best as she can. "How did you know you were in love with Santana? Like, when did you know and what did it feel like?"

She tilts her head to the side as if she doesn't understand the question and Quinn's about two seconds away from just telling her to forget this whole moment ever happened when she finally speaks. "I realized I loved San when she took me to the zoo and I was sad that I ran out of pellets because I fed them all to the ducks and she bought me some more. Then we fed the giraffes together!"

Quinn's brow furrows as she desperately tries to make sense of that statement. It's pretty straight forward but she's having a hard time figuring out how the hell you fall in love with someone because they bought you extra pellets to feed some animals at the zoo.

"She's always so tough, you know? She's always yelling and getting into people's faces but she's not like that around me. She's nice and super gentle and she always does whatever it takes to make me happy. Santana shows me a side of her that nobody gets to see and that's why I fell in love with her."

"And it feels really good. Love does," she continues. "The sex is way, way better now and I told San it would be."

Quinn's a little uncomfortable about having to hear about their sex life but she lets Brittany continue in hopes that it'll end soon.

"And I just…I don't know. I just want to protect her. And everybody might find that funny because Santana seems more likely to be the one to protect me but I protect this for her," she says, gesturing to her heart. "That's the one thing that can really hurt Santana and I think it's awesome that I get to be the one to protect her heart for her."

Quinn's heart swells at how deep Brittany's love for Santana is and though Santana tries to act tough, Quinn knows her best friend's love for her girlfriend runs just as deep. "I'm very happy for the both of you, Brittany," she says kindly.

"I'm happy for you too, Quinn. You and Rachel are really cute and I can tell you two care about each other a lot."

Her alarm goes off and she jets to her room to shut it off before sprinting to the door. "I'm sorry, B, but I have to go!"

"Have fun, Quinn!" she calls before Quinn closes the door. 

* * *

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" Rachel asks from the passenger seat of Quinn's car.

"For the tenth time, Rachel, I'm not telling you. This is a surprise. Shall I define the word for you?

"Like you defined tactless?" Rachel quips with an infectious giggle.

Quinn laughs along with her as she signals to change lanes. "That was a great definition. As a matter of fact I'm sure it's in Oxford Dictionary. They gave me credit."

"Dork."

"Pot. Kettle. Care to finish that statement for me, sweetheart?"

Rachel doesn't respond. She just reaches across the console, for the blonde's hand, intertwining their fingers. "You look beautiful. I love your dress," she murmurs.

Quinn smiles, pink dusting her cheeks at the compliment and the simple action. She returns the sentiment before giving Rachel's hand a gentle squeeze as they continue the car ride in companionable silence.

They pull into the parking lot of a brick building and Rachel peers out of her window to get a better look. "Putt-Putt?" she asks with a hint of a smile in her voice.

"Hope you can golf, Berry."

They walk up to the counter and Rachel gathers their golf clubs and assorted colored balls as Quinn pays for them both.

Throwing her receipt in a nearby trashcan, Quinn turns to Rachel and instantly bursts into a fit of giggles.

"What's so funny?" Rachel asks with a furrowed eyebrow.

Quinn pries the two golf clubs from Rachel's hand to hold them up side by side. "One of these is definitely smaller than the other, Berry." She laughs again as Rachel frowns at her and snatches the club from her hand before briskly walking away.

"Hey wait," Quinn calls, unable to keep the laughter from her voice. "Aww, come on, Rachel, I didn't mean anything by it. I think your height is cute, you're fun size."

Rachel huffs as she comes to a stop and Quinn catches up to her, spinning her around and wrapping one of her arms loosely around her neck. "Come on, shorty," she coaxes as she leans closer to Rachel's face. "I was joking, okay?" She soothingly runs her fingers along the back of Rachel's neck. She knows Rachel was picked on in high school and although Quinn's role in high school extended to tormenting all losers, she isn't in high school anymore and neither is Rachel. And any gentle jabs she makes towards the brunette are all in good fun and she needs her to know that. "You always pick on me for being younger." She kisses the tip of her nose as Rachel scowls up at her. "I can pick on your height," she whispers. "Or lack thereof."

Rachel's about to protest when Quinn swoops down and presses their lips together gently. She instantly melts into the blonde, her arms wrapping tightly against Quinn's waist as she lightly sucks on her lower lip. She splays her hands against Quinn's back, urging her closer.

"Golf," Quinn whispers before biting Rachel's lip. She hears a low whine rumble in Rachel's throat at the sting of her bite and suddenly she doesn't want to play golf anymore.

It's Rachel that ends up pulling back, placing a parting kiss to Quinn's lips before grabbing the shorter golf club from Quinn's grip. "Have I told you how competitive I can be, Fabray?"

"Have I told you about how much you're going to lose, Berry?"

A couple hours later they reach the eighteenth hole and Rachel's so far behind that even if she bests Quinn on this particular hole she'll still lose.

"I'm not good at this," Rachel pouts as she places her ball on the ground. She gets behind it and gently swings her club back and forth to ready her shot.

"You just need the Fabray touch," Quinn quips and Rachel swallows thickly at what she assumes is unintentional innuendo. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Berry."

Before she can even retort she feels the blonde pressed tightly against her back. "There's a certain posture that you have to have that you've been lacking this whole game."

"You could have told me that."

"I wanted to win."

"And now that I have won," Quinn purrs against Rachel's ear, "I can show you how to properly stroke."

Rachel's grip tightens on the club in her hand as she tries to control herself. Just a few words from the teasing blonde behind her sends her mind straight to the gutter and heat envelops her entire body. She feels Quinn lean forward, pressing even more against her if that's even possible, before her arms slide down Rachel's arms. Quinn presses a quick kiss on Rachel's temple before her lips land next to Rachel's ear. "Now…you're going to want to spread your legs and widen your stance just a little." Rachel's mind went blank as soon as Quinn uttered the spread your legs part and Quinn has to gently tap her foot against Rachel's right leg a few times until Rachel gets the hint and moves her foot over.

"That's perfect," Quinn whispers and Rachel feels something low in her clench briefly at the sound of her voice. Her eyelids flutter and she unconsciously leans back against the blonde's warmth.

"Uh-uh, Rachel. You need to lean forward," Quinn chastises. Rachel immediately straightens, face flushing at getting caught up in the moment before she leans forward. "You're doing this on purpose," she grumbles.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she replies soberly but Rachel can easily detect the smile in her voice. Her hands reach further down Rachel's arms until her hands are covering the one's white knuckle gripping the golf club. "Relax your grip."

She keeps her body firmly wrapped around Rachel's as they both pivot back slightly before swinging forward. The ball is off without a hitch and Rachel watches, jaw dropped, as the ball easily slides along the course. "You have to have the right touch to hit it just right."

The ball continues through the course before neatly landing in the designated hole. Rachel turns to Quinn, face slightly flushed with arousal. "You've done this before," she states accusingly.

"My father loves golf. He used to take me with him on Sunday afternoons after church." Her eyes lose focus and cloud over in just a way that has Rachel thinking this isn't a subject they should breach just yet.

"You cheated," she says flippantly a moment later.

Quinn smirks down at her before pulling her into a hug. "I never said the Fabrays play fair."

Rachel purposefully places a sloppy kiss against her cheek in retaliation and laughs as Quinn unsuccessfully tries to pry herself away from the deceptively strong brunette. "I can feel your spit on my face!" she exclaims.

Rachel shrugs and hugs her for a moment longer before pulling away. "Come on," Quinn says as she grabs Rachel's hand.

"Where are we going now?"

"To get some food." 

* * *

"Quinn, I was delightfully unaware that when you suggested food, you had a whole picnic planned out," Rachel beams from above her as she teasingly places a grape within the blonde's reach before pulling it back.

Quinn smiles up at her, blonde hair splayed over Rachel's lap. "I'm full of surprises."

"So it seems," Rachel muses as she finally gives Quinn the grape, curling her fingers into the hair tumbling in waves across her lap.

It's silent for a moment and Quinn isn't really trying to make conversation out of thin air because she knows sooner or later Rachel will start a conversation.

"Tell me about yourself, Quinn."

"What do you wanna know?"

Rachel peers down at her curiously. "What has your life been like up to this point? How were you raised? I feel like I've told you so much about myself and I know nothing about you."

"Now you know how I felt when you wouldn't tell me your name," Quinn quips, remembering back to a couple of months ago when Rachel wouldn't even give her the time of day. But she supposes Rachel really does have a point. Quinn's learned about Rachel's upbringing being submerged in the arts. From ballet, to tap dancing, to acting, singing, Rachel's done it all and Quinn listened on in awe as Rachel recalled all the awards and certificates she's ever won.

Then Quinn learned about how Rachel was adopted by two men named Leroy and Hiram. Rachel later on in life had learned that her biological mother had given her up in order to pursue a career in showbiz and although Quinn was initially angry when she first found out, she's glad that Rachel was raised by two men that loved her as well as each other unconditionally and created a stable environment to foster Rachel's own talent.

"I really do know a lot about you," Quinn murmurs, more to herself than Rachel. She's never really cared about anyone enough to get to know them on an intimate level so knowing little things about Rachel even down to the fact that her room back at her house is painted yellow with pink sheets on her bed is a big deal.

"So let me get to know a lot about you," Rachel responds as she continues to lightly stroke Quinn's hair. "What makes Quinn Fabray such a player?"

"I wasn't aware that I was one." She smirks back up at Rachel.

Rachel scoffs before giving Quinn's hair a firm tug. "Ow, that hurt! Fine, fine, I'll tell you stuff."

"I went to a private all girls academy for elementary school all the way through middle school. I didn't meet Santana until sixth grade when the number of girls in our class dwindled down and a lot of us began to see more of each other. Santana…has always been a little ahead of the curve sort to speak." She glances up at Rachel to see her looking back down at her confusedly and she elaborates.

"Santana first expressed interest in girls in middle school. At least I _think_ so. I didn't know her before then so she could have had an interest earlier than that. She told me to try it out to see if I liked it but I told her no because, well…I didn't have interest in _anybody _at that age. Boy or girl," she says sheepishly.

Rachel bites her lip to keep the smile off of her face, picturing a young Quinn Fabray, all blonde hair, frilly dresses and innocence.

"By the time eighth grade rolled around, Santana had become a terror. She rebelled against her teachers and convinced her parents to send her to Mckinley High, a public high school in Lima. I begged my father to let me go with her and although he was extremely put off by her character, he allowed me to go. She and I quickly took charge of the school. I was captain of our cheerleading squad and she was right beside me."

"A natural born leader, I see," Rachel teases lightly and Quinn offers a shy smile.

"I guess you could say that. Part of being popular and on top is that you had to date someone that was your equal. Or so I thought. I dated the captain of the football team too," she teases right back, gently nudging Rachel. "But I cheated on him. As a matter of fact I cheated on all of my boyfriends," she says, disgusted with herself. "None of them had what I wanted and I didn't find out until years later that what I wanted, what I was searching for every time I kissed a different guy while being with another one, was actually a woman."

"The guy that I told you I had sex with was the last boyfriend I ever had. We were both virgins and had no idea what we were doing. My parents signed the slip opting me out of sex ed and he was just dumb. I was so thankful for Santana because she bought me an entire box of condoms and showed me how to put one on by using a small cucumber. She even showed me how to pinch the tip."

"She's a good friend," Rachel says with realization in her voice. When Mercedes and Kurt had initially told her about Santana Lopez and then she met her for the first time she couldn't for the life of her figure out why Quinn would want to be friends with her.

Quinn smiles fondly. "She's always been there for me. After I had sex with him I drove to her house crying the entire way. I asked her what was wrong with me because I felt sick and disgusted and empty and that's not how a girl is supposed to feel after her first time. She asked me did I feel anything when I kissed him and I said no." She inhales a shaky breath. "And then…she kissed me. And I felt more feelings stirred inside of me from that one kiss than I felt from having sex with my own boyfriend."

Rachel nods sympathetically, eyes wide in disbelief at the story Quinn's telling. She feels a small sense of jealousy flare up inside of her and she instantly stomps it down. What Santana did had actually helped Quinn and Rachel didn't even know the blonde at the time to feel jealous anyway.

"I got so angry, Rachel," she whispers gravely. "I told her I hated her and what she made me feel and I ran from her house and drove back to mine. We didn't talk for two months after that, the remaining of the school year. But cheering camp started back up over that summer and we became friends again."

Quinn sits up from Rachel's lap and faces her, eyes downcast, looking at her fidgeting hands. "I told my parents I was gay during the summer before I came here so that if they kicked me out, I wouldn't have long before I came to live in the dorms anyway. They were angry, but they didn't disown me like I thought they would. Our relationship is very strained right now. I didn't go home over the summer and San and I just went to Florida. My father didn't care. He happily gave me the money because it meant that his lesbian daughter wouldn't be back in Lima where everyone knows him and I can embarrass him."

"Oh, yeah, and I have a sister," she adds belatedly. "She's straight."

Rachel doesn't know what possesses her to have such a reaction, perhaps the severity of their conversation, but the last statement causes her to giggle uncontrollably and Quinn doesn't hesitate to join her. "She really does suck," she tells her with a laugh. "But what can I do? She's family, you know?"

Rachel sobers up with a bright smile, proud of Quinn for taking everything in her life in stride. "You still didn't tell me why you're such a player," she prompts, hoping to steer the conversation into less tense waters.

Quinn shrugs. "I guess I became overzealous when I got here. I mean, I spent my whole high school career dating guys I didn't have feelings for and I had just came out to my parents. I was in new territory and I finally felt…free. So I just tried my hand with one girl and we had sex and I realized that I really, really like girls," she says with a blush and Rachel smiles.

"But there's one girl in particular that I've gone crazy for." She leans in close to Rachel's face, hazel eyes piercing Rachel's. "And I wouldn't have it any other way." Her lips descend slowly onto Rachel's in a loud, lip smacking kiss before she pulls back. Rachel frowns, expecting more before she grabs the front of Quinn's dress and pulls her in for a real kiss.

Quinn grins cheekily against her lips, her tongue diving into Rachel's mouth and curling. An answering growl is her reward as Rachel sucks gently on the intruder in her mouth.

She pulls back enough to take two quick breaths, gathering courage. "Be my girlfriend," she whispers breathily.

Rachel smiles, eyes closed as she rests her forehead against Quinn's. "We really need to teach you how to ask and not demand."

"Is that a yes?" she asks, a pleading note in her voice.

"It's a yes." 


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: **Someone I've Been Missing (The Better Half of Me)

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry; side Brittany/Santana

**Rating: **R

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU/Future fic. Quinn, a rising sophomore in college, meets Rachel for the first time just before the school term begins. An argument between them leaves Rachel wanting nothing more than to forget that Quinn even exists. But she soon finds out that she can't get rid of the determined blonde that easily.

A/N 1: Thank you again to all of the reviews I've been getting! You guys are amazing!

A/N 2: Good news? I've found a plot! Do don't get too bored with the overdose of fluff, because I have something in mind now. ;)

* * *

Rachel enters her apartment with her two friends in tow. She insisted on them not coming over because she had homework but they insisted differently, wanting to know all of her business.

"So, what did you and Miss Quinn do this week?" Kurt starts, crossing his legs in the seat in front of Rachel's desk.

"I bet they went to Breadstix again," Mercedes says. "Quinn doesn't mind spending dough on Rachel."

Rachel smiles, it's true. She and the blonde have officially been an item for three weeks and five and a half days (she marks it on her calendar) and since then, they've been on a total of four dates, Quinn paying for three of them and one that Rachel insisted she pay on. Rachel can admit that she's high maintenance and loves being wined and dined but every once in a while she wants to be the one to pamper her girlfriend.

"We in fact did not dine out at Breadstix's fine establishment tonight. We simply went to see a movie," she says.

"Well that's a bore."

"It most certainly was not, Kurt. Nothing I do with Quinn could be a bore." She motions for Kurt to hand her books over, deciding to do as much homework as she can since her friends don't seem to be leaving any time soon.

"Especially in bed, huh Rach?" Mercedes teases.

Rachel flushes under their gazes. "I ah –You see. We…we haven't really–"

"You haven't given her any yet?" Kurt asks, scandalized. "Wow, she must really love you. How long has she been without?"

Rachel scowls at the undertone insinuation that Quinn's only around for the sex. "She cares about me very much, thank you. And…I'm not sure how long it's been for her. I suppose sense before Noah Puckerman's party. She hasn't brought it up yet, but I can tell she's getting restless."

"Noah Puckerman's party? If she said she didn't have sex at that party–"

Rachel glares at him for the doubt she hears in his voice.

"–which we all know is true," he continues, "then it's been over two months since she's had sex."

"Damn, she must really love you, Rachel," Mercedes says.

Rachel's smile lights up the room. "Why thank you, Mercedes."

"Two months," Kurt says in awe. "She must be a raging bitch by now."

* * *

"Will you _quit _bitching?"

"No, I won't! How hard is it to wash your dish when you're done with it?"

"My fucking show is on! Wait for another half an hour and I'll wash the damn thing."

"You said the same thing about the bathroom and I still see toothpaste crusted into the sink!"

"Well if it bothers you so much you clean it up!"

"It's _your_ turn!"

Santana glares at Quinn from across the room and she gets it back tenfold as Quinn folds her arms tightly against her chest. "I'm telling Brittany."

"Hey now hold on a second. There's no need in involving her in this." Quinn continues to stare at Santana, motionless and the brunette finally relents. "I'll wash the fucking dish, alright?"

Quinn sighs heavily before nodding. She walks tiredly over to the couch and sits down beside Santana.

"Okay, what the hell has got your ass so tight?" Santana asks as she directs her attention to Quinn. "You and Berry fighting?"

"No, we're not fighting. We're getting along well. Really well."

"But?"

"No buts." Quinn's out of her seat and into her room before Santana can even ask her another question.

Santana chuckles darkly to herself as she turns the volume down on her TV. "Hey, Q?"

"Yeah?"

She can barely contain her laughter by this point. "When's the last time you had sex?"

Quinn rushes back into the common space where Santana, face scarlet. Santana already knows the answer. "I –I don't know. What kind of question is that to ask?"

"You don't _know_?" Santana goads. Really, sometimes Quinn was too easy. "Well damn, Quinn if you can't remember then it must have been a long time ago."

"It was actually," she says quietly. "Chloe at the beginning of the year remember?"

Santana's jaw drops. She hadn't expected it to be that long. "No wonder you're being such a bitch. And you're not just being bitch-y. You're being a true, grade-A bitch, Q."

"I know," she sighs. "Look, I'm sorry. You can watch your show or whatever, I was just being dumb."

"That's better." She turns back to her TV as Quinn wanders back into her room. "Tell that Berry chick to give you some." She pauses for a beat. "And if you're in there taking care of business you better hope I don't hear you!"

* * *

"Guys, I have bad news."

Quinn and Rachel sit on the second row in the theater as Mr. Schuester adjusts his tie tiredly. "We're going to have to cancel the play."

"What?"

"B-but why?" Rachel asks pitifully. "Mr. Schuester, Quinn and I have worked diligently for two months," she gestures empathetically with her fingers, "to put on this play for you. How can you throw away our blood, sweat, and tears as if it were nothing?"

Her voice ends in a choked whisper and Quinn thinks she sees a tear in the corner of her eye. If it were up to her the Oscar would go to Rachel Berry.

"I know, Rachel," Mr. Schuester continues, completely unaffected by the show Rachel's putting on. Quinn is a little impressed and envious because she knows if Rachel tried that on her she'd cave.

"We don't have enough funds to put the play on. The dean of student affairs took the money and spread it out across the board. They promised that we can do a play next year but this year is a no go."

Rachel slouches back in her seat with a forlorn expression. "I'm sorry, Rachel," Mr. Schuester says sympathetically. He gives a pacifying squeeze to her shoulder before walking out of the auditorium.

"Well at least we don't have to do this play anymore, huh, Rach?" Quinn's easy smile is turned upside down when she turns to Rachel. "Rach, what's wrong? I thought you didn't want to do the play?"

Her shoulders hunch forward as she inhales deeply. "I didn't at first. Or at least I thought I didn't. But now that I don't have that play, what do I have?"

Quinn's decidedly a little put out by her statement. "Umm…me."

Rachel smiles apologetically before placing a kiss on the blonde's cheek. "Forgive me. Of course I have you, Quinn. And I'm grateful for you. But I have nothing in the realm of theater to tackle now that this play is over. And if theater is my major then what the hell am I doing without work? I suspect Mr. Schuester is trying to ruin my career," she grumbles petulantly.

Quinn's eyes widen at Rachel's rare use of a swear word. Surprised, and a little turned on, she grabs Rachel's hand in support. "Well, firstly Rachel you have to realize that not everything is about you."

Rachel turns to her, affronted and Quinn holds up a single finger to stop her protest before continuing. "I'm positive that Mr. Schuester isn't out to ruin your career. I mean sure, he _did _make you the star of a sucky play but it wasn't like he intentionally wrote a play that sucked. It's just that his writing is as bad as his ability to rap. And secondly, what's going on with you? You should know that in this profession actors sometimes go months, even years without work. That doesn't make you a failure."

"Nor was I suggesting that it did," Rachel says as she looks at Quinn pointedly.

"Nor was I saying you were," she recovers nicely. "But you have to accept the fact that you aren't going to always have something in your lap to work on."

"You just don't get it, Quinn." She bites her lip nervously as her hands fidget in Quinn's grasp. Quinn tightens her grip to still her moving and Rachel looks up at her again. "Then help me understand."

"I just…do you remember when we first me and I told you that not everyone wants to be as well-known as you?"

Quinn nods.

"Well, I was lying." She frowns. "I want to be known for my talent more than anything, Quinn. I want my name in lights. I want sold out seats in each and every show I perform on Broadway."

She smiles dimly a moment later. "I bet that you think that's silly."

"I don't think that's silly at all. I think that you're ambitious and I never understood why having ambition was always looked down upon, but you have talent, Rachel. You're the most talented person I've ever met," she says honestly.

"Quinn?'

"Hmm?"

"You have the cutest nose I've never met," she teases and Quinn blushes faintly. "Do you see my nose?" she asks and Quinn nods. "I've been told by more casting directors than I care to mention that it's too big. That it's too ethnic, that my very _face _is too ethnic to ever make it into show business. I'm always determined to prove them wrong but it's moments like this that I can't help but wonder if they're right."

Quinn wraps her arms around Rachel protectively and kisses her head gently. "You gotta stop listening to what people say about you, Rachel. In the end you'll prove them wrong anyway."

Rachel's heart swells at Quinn's calming tone and her amazing way of handling her. "Have I ever told you that I have the best girlfriend ever?" she whispers.

Quinn laughs quietly, rubbing soothing circles down Rachel's back. "I don't know, Rachel. I bet she isn't half as good as mine."

"I love you, Quinn," Rachel says softly.

"I know you do," she sing songs happily.

Rachel burrows her head into Quinn's neck, eyes shut tightly. "Quinn, please."

Her eyes soften at Rachel's plea and Quinn gets the feeling that she's the first person to ever say this to the girl. "I love you, Rachel." She kisses the top of her head before pulling her closer. "You know I do."

* * *

They arrive at lunch hand in hand and besides a few curious glances, no one seems to notice. Quinn sits down in front of Santana and Rachel sits beside her, opposite Brittany.

Santana eyes Rachel as the brunette situates herself. She opens her mouth to say something but a warning glare from Quinn stops her.

"Hi, Rachel!" Brittany greets exuberantly. "I'm so glad you're here! When Quinn told us you'd be eating lunch with us at first I didn't know if I should believe her."

"I never lie," Quinn responds as she points to her nose.

"Yes, well, that's debatable," Rachel replies.

Quinn scowls at her and Santana smirks at the exchange, mentally tipping her hat off to Rachel and her quick wit.

"You mean arguable, don't you, baby? After all that's what you like to do."

"Shall I define debatable for you?"

"Like I defined tactless?"

Rachel is the first to crack. Her bottom lip taken between her teeth to unsuccessfully suppress her laugh. Her tiny frame vibrates with giggles and Quinn follows soon after. Rachel wipes at her eye a moment later as Quinn places a quick kiss against her cheek.

"I'm going to get something to eat. I'll be back," she says forcefully, looking directly at Santana.

"Yeah, yeah. Be gone, will ya!"

Rachel turns back to Brittany with a sincere smile. "Forgive me, Brittany for not responding earlier. It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

"Yeah? Like what?" Brittany asks excitedly.

Rachel's instantly charmed by the blonde and she leans forward in her seat to engage Brittany in conversation more fully. "Well Quinn says that you're a cheerleader like she is. And that you're a phenomenal dancer. And that you love motorcross."

Brittany smiles proudly at the comment.

Once Santana feels that Quinn is sufficiently out of earshot she turns to Brittany. "B, can you go get me soda, please? Mine is almost gone."

Brittany nods and stands to place a kiss atop Santana's forehead. "You have to be careful though, San. My dentist says that Dr. Pepper isn't a real doctor and causes cavities."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Brittany runs off in the same direction Quinn took and Rachel's eyes trail after her with a warm, even if a little quizzical, smile. "She really is sweet, Santana."

Santana smiles with just a hint of bashfulness that takes Rachel by surprise. "She's something alright. But enough about me and B. I wanna talk to you about Q."

Rachel splays her hands against the table top before leaning back in her seat and placing neatly in her lap. "What is it that you want to discuss?"

"Quinn loves you. I'm not so sold on you but for whatever reason you have her hooked and she's hooked good." She narrows her eyes and points a threatening finger in Rachel's direction. "If you hurt her–"

"I would never dream of it," Rachel says softly. "You're right, Quinn does love me. But what you have yet to realize is that I love her just as fiercely. I would never intentionally hurt her."

"That's my best friend you got there, Berry. You fuck with her, you fuck with me. And you best believe you don't wants it with me," she warns.

Rachel catches sight of Quinn and Brittany in her peripheral. "Noted," she says lowly as the two blondes reclaim their seats. "Wow, the two of you are still alive," Quinn comments in awe. "This whole thing might work out after all."

Rachel just smiles back at her as Santana folds her arms. "You act like I'm just some animal that's gonna rip her to shreds the second you're outta sight."

"Well, no. Because then I'd have to kick your ass."

"As if you could, blondie."

"Quinn, you know I don't condone violence. Or cursing."

"What's condone? Is it like ice cream cone?"

The tension instantly breaks. Santana tends to Brittany's question as Rachel grabs Quinn's hand under the table. They share a smile and Quinn relaxes, that previous banter between all four of them affirming for her how cohesive they'll all manage to be together.

"I love you," Rachel whispers before kissing her on the lips.

Santana grimaces.

"Eww!"

* * *

Santana enters the kitchen, nose scrunched up as she opens the cupboard in search of honey buns. "What the fuck is that smell?"

"Stir fry," Quinn supplies, not taking her eyes off the dish she's preparing. "And it doesn't stink. In fact it doesn't smell like much of anything. It's vegan."

"That explains the smell." She walks over to Quinn and lifts onto her toes to peer over her shoulder. "What's this for?"

She shrugs her shoulder to get Santana out of her ear as she tries to concentrate. "Rachel. She's vegan."

"So?"

"So she's coming over and I thought–"

"You invited the troll?"

That gets her attention. She spins on her heel and pokes a finger into Santana's chest threateningly. "That's my _girlfriend_," she growls. "I don't ever say anything about B so you sure as hell better respect what I have with Rachel and keep your degrading opinions about her to yourself."

Santana shrugs. "You need to get laid. Fast before kick your ass for the way you talk to me." Slinking over to a nearby counter, she surveys what Quinn's prepared for the evening. "What are these green penis shaped things?"

Quinn rolls her eyes as she turns back to preparing Rachel's stir fry. "They're cabbage rolls."

Her hand reaches out before she hears Quinn tell her, "Don't touch them, Santana. I'm trying to make everything look presentable."

She growls quietly. "What's this all about? You've already caught the fish, Quinn. No need to set out expensive bait for it anymore."

"I'm going to pretend that you didn't just call my girlfriend a 'fish _and _an 'it' in the same sentence. I'm doing it because it's _nice _to do _nice _things for someone you care about."

It was partially true. Rachel had insisted on preparing dinner at her place so that it could be a romantic dinner with just the two of them, but Quinn insisted otherwise. She wanted to integrate Rachel into the family –no matter how dysfunctional it was— that she, Santana, and Brittany had cultivated since she was a first year. Rachel was of course skeptical and nervous, not knowing how to win Santana over or if that was even possible but she eventually agreed.

"Don't you do nice things for Brittany?" she continues a moment later.

She shrugs. "I buy her sex toys every now and again."

"That's it?"

Santana shrugs again.

"You're such a liar," Quinn huffs. "Don't think I don't know about that time you took her to the zoo _and _bought her more animal food when she ran out _and _fed the giraffes with her."

A telling blush runs along Santana's cheeks as she stiffens from the accusation. "When did she tell you that?"

Quinn smiles victoriously. "Don't worry about it."

They fall into a comfortable silence as Quinn continues to busy herself around the kitchen while Santana stares after her incredulously. A light rap at the door knocks them both out of their thoughts and Quinn's head whips around to stare at the door with wide eyes.

"Calm yourself, Chef Boy You're Queer. It's just B."

She strolls over to the door to open it. Having done this a thousand times she properly braces herself for impact.

"Hi, San! Hi, Q!" Brittany tackles her into a hug and Santana manages to stay rooted firmly on the ground before wrapping her arms around Brittany's waist. "Hey, B," she murmurs affectionately. They share a heated kiss that's far from innocent and Quinn averts her eyes, tossing out a "Hey, B" as the pair giggle and stumble over each other all the way to Santana's room.

It's no more than ten minutes before Rachel's knocking on the door and Quinn wipes her sweaty palms on her apron before removing it and letting Rachel in. Her smile is bright but nervous as she instantly wraps her arms around Quinn's waist and leans up to kiss her. "Hi," she says shyly.

"Hey yourself," she whispers, charmed by the rare display of bashfulness. Quinn runs her thumb over Rachel's cheek softly, smiling as she watches her eyes sparkle with affection. She leans down to kiss her again and Rachel shuffles forward in an attempt to get closer. Her fingers glide along Quinn's back to briefly curl around her shoulders before moving back down and settling securely on her hips. She pries her lips away from Quinn's. "As much as I honestly wouldn't mind continuing this for a while, we technically have an objective tonight. And I cannot very well successfully charm Santana if I'm standing at the threshold of your doorstep kissing you." She smiles. "No matter how soft your lips are."

Quinn pulls away with a pout before allowing Rachel in. "You can sit down. I'll make you a plate."

"I have the most considerate, girlfriend ever," Rachel gushes as she sinks back into one of the plush couches in the living room. She hears Quinn grumble a "Yeah, yeah," before a loud thumping sound startles her. She turns in her seat to see Quinn at a bedroom door that Rachel assumes belongs to Santana.

"Rachel's here so get your asses out here so we can have dinner!"

She offers Rachel a smile before grabbing their plates and walking over to the couch to sit beside her. "Quinn, you know I don't—"

"Condone swearing," Quinn drawls with a roll of her eyes. "I get it. Although, I think it's a little hypocritical considering how filthy your mouth can be in the heat of the moment."

Rachel flushes hotly as the door to Santana's room swings open before the blonde and brunette pair walk out into the living room.

"You aren't grabbing a plate?" Quinn asks as Santana sits down on the couch opposite them.

She swipes the remote off the living room table before aiming it at the TV. "I ain't eating that shit." Rachel stiffens at her side and Quinn's eyes narrow aggressively. "No offense to you, Berry. Or you, Q," Santana grumbles.

Rachel nods. "None taken."

Brittany bounces back with a plate in hand, stopping to wrap her free arm around Rachel. "Hi, Rachel! It's awesome that you came over."

Rachel returns the hug with equal fervor before they both pull back. "It's a pleasure, really." She takes the first bite of her food, her taste buds practically singing at the mouthful of stir fry. "Quinn, this is really lovely. I have to say I'm rather impressed."

She grins smugly at Rachel's side, accepting the kiss to her cheek.

"Yeah, this is really good, Quinn," Brittany agrees as she wolfs down her food. It always amazes both Quinn and Santana how the tall, slender blonde can pack it all away.

Santana sits the remote on her lap before turning to her guest, sick of not being included in the conversation. "So, Berry," she starts, "what are you like? What's your major? What's your personality? If you have one."

Quinn tenses beside Rachel and she rests a gentle hand on the blonde's arm to calm her ire. "My major is theater with a concentration in acting. And I suppose I would describe myself as passionate. If I want something I go after it with everything I have, I never jump into any project with _just_ half a mind to do it. If I intend to accomplish something then I'll make certain that I achieve it, whatever goal it may be at the time. And my goal as of tonight is to win you over." She holds Santana's gaze unflinchingly and Quinn can tell from the set of Santana's mouth and her slightly narrowed eyes that she's sizing Rachel up and decidedly impressed with what she sees so far.

"You know, Berry –do you mind if I call you Berry?" she asks with mild sarcasm.

Rachel shakes her head with a smile. "As long as it is a name that is mine you can call me whatever you want, Santana."

"Kinky," she comments. "But I gotta say, I never pegged you as the type to have a backbone. You just look like the type that screams _walk all over me_."

"I used to get that a lot." There's a subtle softness to her voice that only Quinn can recognize as vulnerability. She reaches out to grab Rachel's hand and cradle it between her own.

Santana watches the interaction with a raised eyebrow. "Well since you're so much more confident than I ever thought you'd be, I have to ask; who's the top? You or Quinn?"

She blinks owlishly at the question, seemingly out of incomprehension before her shoulders shake slightly and her laughter fills the room. Quinn looks at her like she's grown two heads; Brittany covers her mouth and giggles as well and Santana leans back in her seat with a smirk on her face.

"Alright, enough talking. Let's see what's on TV."

As soon as the movie _Step Brothers_ is over Santana is chasing Brittany playfully into their room before closing the door soundly. Quinn turns to look at Rachel with a wary expression. "I'm sorry."

Rachel's head tilts to the side. "For what exactly?"

"For whatever you're going to hear coming from that room."

She continues to look at Quinn in confusion as she tries to decipher her cryptic meaning. "Oh," she murmurs a moment later. "_Oh. _I…" she trails off, her lips curling downward as her brow furrows.

Quinn smiles at her before taking her hand. "Come on."

They enter her room and Quinn closes the door behind them while Rachel smoothes the back of her skirt down and sits atop Quinn's bed. "Thank you for inviting me. The food was amazing."

"It was no trouble." Quinn sits down behind her on the bed, reclining back to rest against her pillow. "I think Santana likes you."

"Hardly," Rachel scoffs. "But I can tell she's at least warming up to the idea of us being together."

"She's not the only one." Her eyes find Rachel's meaningfully and Rachel nods. "I've grown quite fond of you," she says prissily.

Quinn laughs loudly at the understatement and Rachel smiles down at her. Quinn's laughter is something that never seems to get old for her. "I'd say you love me huh, Berry?"

Rachel leans down, her hair tickling the sides of Quinn's face as she braces her arms on either side of Quinn's head. "Perhaps," she teases with a smile. Her eyes trace over Quinn's features for the thousandth time, finding new things to fall in love with every time she looks at her. "I love you," she whispers.

Quinn's arm snakes around her waist as she pulls Rachel further on top of her. She swallows thickly at the mere sensation of having Rachel pressed against her in so many places. The brunette's warm body causing warmth to spread all throughout Quinn and settling low in her stomach. Her right hand reaches up to brush some of Rachel's hair from her face so she can see those dark, warm eyes that she loves. "I love you, too," she murmurs. "And I love when you say you love me."

Rachel hums lightly at the comment, eyes darkening as Quinn's thumb brushes her lower lip. They lie there, staring into each other's eyes and although Quinn can feel the heat simmering more and more inside of her she's oddly content to just look at Rachel. Not needing to sate the quickly building passion inside of her. For the moment.

"You're so beautiful," Rachel murmurs, her voice bordering on awe as her eyes glance over Quinn's face appreciatively. She watches the blonde flush, her cheeks tinged pink in a mix of modesty and arousal and she licks her lips.

Quinn watches the provocative way Rachel's tongue slowly runs over her lower lip, leaving a glistening trail in its wake and she decides the moment for simply watching is over. She leans up to roughly claim Rachel's lips, tugging her closer as both of her arms slide securely around her waist.

Rachel sighs into the kiss, body sagging against Quinn's as she gives in completely. She'd be lying if she said that Quinn was the only one suffering from a bit of sexual frustration. Every time they kiss Rachel always wants more. And it never takes much for the blonde to evoke reactions from her. A simple brush of their hands makes her feel warm all over and every time Quinn kisses her she feels tingles down her spine. Every time she does that trick with her tongue –she's doing it now.

Rachel whimpers quietly as her hands fist into the sheets, her body going into sensory overload from just being pressed up against the blonde so tightly. Not a single inch of space is between them and to Rachel that still isn't enough. Quinn's hands slip under her shirt and she moans encouragingly before sucking eagerly on Quinn's lower lip.

It slips from her mouth with a wet pop and she places gentle kisses against Quinn's jaw before burrowing into her neck. Quinn's head tips back as she moans into the air, wet, heated kisses stoking the fire within her. Her hands skate along the warm flesh of Rachel's back. Rachel licks a hot trail along Quinn's pulse point and Quinn thinks she's going to lose it, groaning piteously. "Rachel," she pants into the suffocating air around them, her hands flying down Rachel's back to grip her ass. She gives it a gentle squeeze before pulling her closer, Rachel's hips shifting against hers.

Rachel shudders above her, calling out Quinn's name quietly. She stills her movements and pulls back slightly. "I'm not having sex with you tonight," she warns breathlessly.

Quinn smiles shakily up at her, her libido completely out of control. She nods her head, not missing the little leeway she was given with the simple word _tonight_. Maybe not tonight. But there's tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that…

"Okay," she whispers. She closes her eyes to gather her bearings and Rachel settles down on top of her, wrapping her arm around Quinn's waist and resting her head against her collarbone. Her fingers gently glide along Quinn's stomach and she smiles at the feel of the blonde's abs bunching and contracting under her fingertips. Quinn's breath grows heavy as Rachel fingers the buttons of her shirt, so close and yet so far away from releasing each button from their catch.

Quinn's hand darts out a moment later to cover Rachel's own and Rachel looks up at the blonde, breath hitching at the sight of Quinn's blown pupils.

"We–" she clears her throat, voice low and throaty and Rachel feels herself growing restless at the sound. "We can either watch TV or continue…this." She blushes a little and Rachel wonders how a girl like Quinn ever managed to get through sex when at times she can't even manage to say simple words such as—

"Making out?" she helpfully supplies.

Quinn nods eagerly with a smile and Rachel lifts up onto her elbows until she's level with the blonde's predatory eyes. "I feel like such a teenager," she mutters.

"You say that as if you're old. You're only twenty-one." Her words aren't particularly sexy but she could have said the word 'xylophone' in that tone of voice and it would have produced the same shivers that are currently rolling down Rachel's spine.

Her lips descend onto Quinn's in a slow, loving kiss and Quinn gently rolls them over before settling on top.

"I love you, Quinn," Rachel whispers before Quinn kisses her again.

"I know," she responds with a bold grin, laughing at Rachel's frown.

"Quinn Fabray!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: **Someone I've Been Missing (The Better Half of Me)

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **NC-17

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU/Future fic. Quinn, a rising sophomore in college, meets Rachel for the first time just before the school term begins. An argument between them leaves Rachel wanting nothing more than to forget that Quinn even exists. But she soon finds out that she can't get rid of the determined blonde that easily.

A/N 1: My A/N last chapter was just kind of a heads up. I wrote the majority of the story a while ago and though I made some changes, the plot is pretty much the same. So, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Quinn walks to Rachel's apartment tiredly, tennis shoes slapping heavily against the tiled floors leading to her door before she knocks none too gently.

Rachel peers through her peep hole before opening her door and the sight that greets her is…surprising to say the least. Entirely dressed down, her usually clean cut, dress wearing, always presentable girlfriend has on a pair of gray, baggy sweat pants and a tight tank top that clings to her skin with perspiration. Her stomach expands on every inhale but Rachel can practically count –and she does— the rippling abdominal muscles that make up her impressive six pack that she loves to run her hands all over. Her chest heaves up and down with the effort of simply breathing and Rachel's eyes glance over them appreciatively before she meets the blonde's flushed face. Sexual frustration is a cruel bitch. "Hard practice, baby?" She sounds so breathless that anyone else would think that she was the one that ran around the track five times consecutively, not Quinn.

Quinn smirks before walking inside, dropping her bag by the door. "Mind out of the gutter, Berry. I'm sweaty and probably smelly. Not exactly someone you'd want to be kissing and touching on right now," she admits as she flings herself onto Rachel's bed sheets. She inhales deeply, soaking up the scent of floral laundry detergent and a scent that belonged to Rachel entirely, before rolling over onto her back to look at her.

"Well if you are indeed carting an odor around, would you be so kind as to extricate yourself from my freshly washed bedspread?"

Quinn grumbles and sinks further into her bed as Rachel lies down beside her. She slides the wet hair clinging to the blonde's skin to the side, placing a gentle kiss to her pulse point. And there should really not be anything remotely attractive about perspiration, especially to one Rachel Berry whom believes that hygiene is an absolute necessity at all times no matter the situation. But something about the blonde's damp skin and the salty taste rolling around on her tongue does something for her.

Before she knows what she's doing her tongue darts out to run teasingly along Quinn's neck down to the valley of her breasts to dip into her cleavage. Quinn's hands fist into her hair to give a tug, meeting Rachel's lips in a heated kiss that's all tongue, and lips, and teeth.

"If I had known this would turn you on, I would have showed up on your door step sweaty days ago," she husks, voice low and throaty and Rachel shivers at the sound.

Even the _word _sweaty does things to her. _Sweaty _and _abdominals _and _tensing _just like how Quinn's arms are tensing and contracting as Rachel runs her hands along her flesh. She slides her hands under the blonde's damp tank top to scrape her nails down her stomach and Rachel thinks for the first time ever that she has a distinct fetish for athletes. Or at least for women with gentle curves –like the blonde's breasts she's squeezing in her hands— and lean, unyielding muscles.

She's just about to round second base under Quinn's tight, form fitting sports bar before the blonde's phone buzzes to alert her to a text message.

"Ignore it," Quinn breathes as she captures Rachel's lips in another kiss. "If it was important they'd call."

Rachel nods as her hands continue to roam all over the blonde's torso, entranced by the way Quinn squirms and writhes underneath her. "Take it off," she grits out, grabbing the hem of her shirt, but Rachel bats her hands away. She almost whines in protest but Rachel's hands replace hers and before she knows her shirt is over her head and off her body.

Heavy lidded eyes drink in every inch of Quinn that Rachel can see. Her pale, creamy skin making her hands itch to just dart out and touch everything in their reach. Her dark blue sports bra contrasting nicely against her skin and a flat toned stomach that Rachel loves on full display. "Quinn, you're absolutely gorgeous," she murmurs.

"So are you, baby." She fingers the hem of Rachel's sweater, contemplating. "Are you going to take this off?"

"You do it," she challenges in return as she swoops down to press her lips against Quinn's smirk. Her hands fly to the hem of Rachel's sweater, gripping the fabric tightly as Rachel's right hand curls around her breast and she's arching and it's all so _perfect_. So perfect in fact that she doesn't even register her phone sounding off until Rachel pulls away with a frustrated sigh on its third ring. "I guess it was important," she mumbles.

Rachel sits back on her heels to straddle her and Quinn lifts up on her elbows to get a good look at her. Her first thought, aside from Rachel being beautiful, is that mussed up, debauched hair works well for her. _Really _well. If only she could actually have sex _with _her to give her _actual _sex hair. As if having read her thoughts, the corner of Rachel's mouth quirks into a teasing half smile. "Quinn, your phone is still ringing."

She falls back onto the bed in exasperation before fishing her phone out of her pocket. "I missed the call…" she murmurs distractedly as she unlocks her phone. The name _Ashley _flashes across the screen and Quinn's blood runs cold. She hasn't talked to her since that night at the party when she walked out on her after _not _having sex with her. Ashley was apparently upset about it and had been avoiding her and Quinn really didn't see fit to fix the situation since she wanted nothing to do with the girl anyway.

They're relationship, or lack thereof, was cut and dry from the very beginning with a very no strings attached policy. So when Quinn started dating Rachel she had just assumed that what she had with Ashley was over.

"Is everything okay?" Rachel asks worriedly.

"Yeah. I just have to go back to my place to take care of something."

Her arms fold tightly across her chest and if Quinn could give a phrase to the face Rachel's making it would be the _are you fucking kidding me _face. "Quinn Fabray, are you stepping out on me?"

She laughs at her old fashioned phrasing before placing her hands on Rachel's hips and giving a gentle squeeze. "Rachel Berry, you strike me as the type of woman that _no one _steps out on."

Rachel beams down at her before planting a loving kiss on her lips and hopping off the bed. She walks over to the door and opens it as Quinn jogs over to her while putting her shirt back on. She bends down to pick up her bag. "You should come watch me cheer sometime. You know, like at nationals or something," she says offhandedly, even adding a shrug for good measure.

Rachel's eyes widen. "Y –you–" She throws herself at Quinn and the blonde barely has time to catch her before she's crashing into the wall behind her. "I'm so proud of you," Rachel whispers before she kisses her messily. Quinn smiles into the kiss, wondering when she and Rachel became this affectionate overly lovey dovey couple before wrapping her arms around Rachel's waist and hugging her tightly.

She doesn't leave until five minutes later when Rachel deems fit to unpin her from the door. Quinn walks home in a daze, completely aroused but also just…happy.

* * *

She arrives at Ashley's apartment after she's had a chance to have a shower. A cold one. She knocks swiftly and takes two steps from the door, unconsciously putting distance between herself and the girl on the other side.

When the door swings open, Ashley's waiting with nothing on but a bathrobe that Quinn's about ninety-five percent sure she's naked under. "Quinnie–"

"Quinn," she says evenly, but without malice. "My name is Quinn, Ashley. My mother calls me Quinnie and you _know _how much I hate that name."

Ashley nods before offering a smile. "I thought you weren't coming."

"That's actually what I came here to talk to you about."

Her face falls and she steps inside, inviting Quinn in. And although this is a conversation Quinn would love to handle without actually having to step foot into the girl's apartment, she can't ignore twenty years of 'good grooming' as Rachel calls it. It would be rude to have a conversation so private on someone's doorstep. Reluctantly, she walks into the apartment. Her eyes scan over Ashley's living room, noticing subtle differences and small nuances that weren't there a few months ago when she last visited.

She takes a seat, back rigid as she folds her hands neatly in her lap. Ashley sits down beside her. Her hand reaches up to touch Quinn's freshly curled hair and she shies from the touch. "Quinn, what's going on?" she asks flatly.

Quinn takes a deep breath, licking her lips nervously. "I'm breaking this off," she says slowly. "Whatever's been going on between us has stopped months ago so I thought we were through. But you called and texted me today so I figured I would stop by." She meets Ashley's eyes guardedly. "I have a girlfriend. So you and I can't do…what we used to do." Her cheeks dust pink a little but she forges on. "I hope you understand."

"Understand?" she asks incredulously. "_Understand_?" She's out of her seat like a shot and Quinn sighs before shaking her head in exasperation. This is not the way she had expected it to go. "You don't '_do_' relationships, Quinn. Isn't that what you said?"

"Well obviously I was wrong," Quinn growls as she stands to face her. She's sick of everyone throwing that phrase in her face. "I'm not going to sit here and argue about _my _life with _you_. I have a girlfriend. We're through. End of story."

She doesn't even allow Ashley a chance to respond before walks around her to the door, slamming it shut. She fishes out her phone and calls Chloe, deciding to kill two birds with one stone.

* * *

"This is something I should have done a while ago," she admits. "I just –I didn't think–"

"You didn't think highly enough of myself or Ashley to warrant the feeling of having to end anything," Chloe finishes in a hushed voice as she closes her book. They're in the library and although Quinn doesn't feel this is exactly a great place to have this conversation, she couldn't wait. "In your eyes, there was nothing to end."

Quinn tenses. "It wasn't like that."

"Sure it was." Chloe smiles sympathetically at Quinn as her shoulders slump.

"I'm such a bitch," she mutters.

"You're not," she whispers fiercely. "You just…don't think sometimes."

Quinn smiles wryly at the statement. Not thinking before acting, classic Fabray. Not exactly something she wants to be. "I'm sorry, Chloe." Her eyes find Chloe's holding nothing but sincerity in them as she continues. "You're a really great person. Really kind, smart. Whoever gets you will be extremely lucky."

She gives Chloe one last hug before exiting the library. Wanting nothing more than to see Rachel.

* * *

Quinn knew when she woke up this morning today wasn't going to be a good day.

"Do you even live here anymore?"

She takes her head out of the refrigerator to find Santana staring, hip cocked and arms folded across her chest.

"I sleep here at night, don't I?" she asks around a mouthful of grapes.

"Barely," she scoffs. "If you call coming back to the room at one in the morning sleeping here, then yeah. You fucking sleep here _every_ night."

Santana's tone sounds more biting than usual and Quinn finds herself rising slowly from her crouching position to meet Santana head on. "Why do you care?" she asks with genuine curiosity.

"I _don't_. But if you're going to come in here every night at one in the morning then could you at least keep it down with your Sasquatch feet because _I'm _trying to sleep at that hour." She stomps off into the living room before flinging her body into the sofa and watching TV. Quinn shuts the refrigerator with wide eyes and walks over to the couch to sit beside her. If Santana is worried about her whereabouts that can only mean one thing…

"I miss you too," Quinn whispers, somewhat awkwardly. Neither she nor Santana are particularly good with emotions, especially with each other. Santana doesn't respond and Quinn turns her attention towards the TV, effectively placing the ball in Santana's court.

"Britt's mad at me."

"Why?"

"Slept with Puck," she admits, unconsciously bowing her head in shame.

Quinn nods, not entirely surprised. Brittany and Santana's relationship is complicated at best. Quinn just prefers to call them unofficially exclusive. They try it out for a while and it works just fine. Santana and Brittany are both happy but Santana sometimes finds herself sleeping with or making out with other people. And it hurts both of them but it's a cycle Quinn hasn't seen her friend successfully break yet.

"I'm just scared y'know?" She inhales deeply and for a second Quinn thinks she's about to cry before she schools her emotions and her face is as blank as a fresh canvas.

Quinn's heart reaches out to her friend and before her words even leave her mouth she hates herself for saying them. "San, you either need to commit to her fully or let her go," she says softly. "You're hurting her."

Santana's eyes pinch in frustration as her hands curl around the remote. "What are you, Q? Some fucking relationship expert all of a sudden? You just got in a relationship, what two hours ago, and all of a sudden you're giving advice. Don't forget that _you _were the one that followed in _my _lady loving footsteps so don't you think for one second in that pretty little blonde head of yours that you're incapable of cheating on Rachel."

Her jaw tightens at the accusation and she lowers her voice into a controlled tone to try to keep herself and Santana form getting more riled up. "Look, I didn't mean to sound like a psychiatrist. I was just giving you advice–"

"Well I don't need your fucking advice! Take your own advice and make sure you can keep your legs closed long enough to actually get between Rachel's!"

"Fuck you!" she screams angrily to disguise how hurt she is as she hops up from the couch. She gets right in Santana's face, snarling. "You don't know the first thing about me so don't you dare tell me how my relationship with Rachel's going to end."

"I don't know you? Bitch, you're _me_! If it wasn't for me kissing you that day you'd still be fucking dick after dick in search of something you'd never heard of at the time called _pussy_!"

Quinn glares daggers right through Santana as they continue to stare each other down. Her hands curl into fists at her sides and Santana notices the action with a cruel sneer. "You wanna throw down, Q? Nothing to lose here."

She shakes her head disgustingly at both Santana and herself as she backs away from her roommate. "You wanna go, Quinn?"

She ignores her, running out of her apartment and down the flight of steps. Her feet hit concrete and she pushes one foot in front of the other, unsure of where she's heading.

* * *

A warm hand touches her cold shoulder and she startles before looking up at the offender. Her eyes meet the deepest pair of dark brown eyes she's ever seen, eyes that seem to sparkle and smile at her and she instantly knows everything's going to be okay.

"Quinn, it is forty-two degrees out here and you don't have a jacket on," Rachel instantly admonishes as she sits beside her girlfriend on the bench. Quinn had kept running once she left her apartment and with the little money she had on her she flagged down a cab that drove her to a nearby park, having been too far away from the campus parking lot to grab her car.

"I'm glad you're here. I don't have enough money to get back to campus."

Rachel smiles. "Quinn Fabray? Lacking money? A _Fabray _lacking money? The very phrase is an oxymoron," she jokes. She picks up on Quinn's forced smile instantly. She grabs both of Quinn's cold hands into her warm ones, rubbing them softly in an attempt to warm them. "What's the matter?" she asks.

"Santana and I got into a huge fight," she whispers, the wind picking up between them and carrying the words to Rachel's ear.

"About what?"

Quinn bites her lip before sighing tiredly. "She cheated on Brittany. Again. And all I did was tell her that what she does hurts Brittany and that she either needs to stop sleeping around or let her go and she—"

"She called you a hypocrite."

"Basically." Her brow furrows and she looks up at Rachel. "Do you think that I am?"

"No," Rachel tells her softly. "But I do think that you struck a nerve without knowing it."

"I did know," she admits. "But she really needs to hear that because what she's doing is hurting Brittany and I know she doesn't like hurting her."

Rachel nods understandingly and that's one of the things Quinn loves about her. They get each other, and even if Rachel doesn't agree with what was said Quinn knows that she won't voice it to make her feel any guiltier. She watches Rachel shiver beside her as she licks her wind chapped lips and she suddenly feels guilty for a whole different reason.

"I could have picked a warmer place to sulk in, huh?" She stretches her arm around the back of the seat before wrapping it around Rachel tightly. She smiles as Rachel curls into her, wrapping her arms around her waist. "If I get to cuddle on this bench with you like this then I won't complain."

"My parents used to always let my sister and me play in the snow for hours when we were little. I guess I just built up immunity for the cold. But you're a born and raised New Yorker, so you should be used to this," she jabs lightly.

Rachel smiles fondly at the mental image of a young Quinn Fabray she's conjured up in her head after hearing so many stories of the blonde's childhood. "Yes, well, not all of us enjoy making fictitious men with top hats or balls to throw cruelly at each other out of frozen precipitation," she huffs, sniffling a little because of the cold.

Quinn laughs quietly. "You're no fun."

It's silent for a moment and Rachel tightens her hold around Quinn to prepare for her next statement. "I would like to meet your parents," she says cautiously.

Almost on cue, Quinn tenses in her hold and Rachel just holds on tighter. "Quit crushing my ribs," she breathes out.

Rachel blushes a little as she lets go to look up at Quinn. "I'm sorry," she says sheepishly. "But to reiterate; I'd very much like to meet your parents."

"I'd very much like to skip the whole meeting my parents phase of the relationship," Quinn responds flatly.

"Please, Quinn. We've been together for 2 months and twenty-three days. That's more than enough time to warrant my meeting of your parents." She pokes her lip out in a way she knows Quinn can't resist, eyes wide and innocent.

"Rachel," Quinn whines and Rachel smiles in victory. She wraps her arms around the blonde's neck and pulls her down for a deep kiss. "Take me home," she whispers thickly.

* * *

"Quinn Fabray!"

Quinn quirks an eyebrow in Rachel's direction as she slathers more jelly onto her sandwich. She places the knife back on the counter beside Rachel before looking up at her. "Yes?"

Rachel watches Quinn's left thumb slowly rise to her mouth as a pink tongue slides out to wrap around the digit and suck the peanut butter away. She almost forgets what she's upset about. Almost. "When I suggested you take me home it was not for you fix us sandwiches," she complains as she accepts the sandwich Quinn made for her.

"I know exactly what you meant when you told me to _take you _home," she intones. "But I made us sandwiches so we'd have energy."

She begrudgingly takes a bite of her sandwich as her mind is assaulted with images of what she and Quinn could possibly need energy for. Certainly it would take a lot of energy to writhe naked together on Rachel's bed for hours on end. "Energy for what?" she breathes.

Quinn leans onto the counter as she finishes her sandwich, her eyes caressing Rachel's body from her long, tan legs, to her short skirt, her flat, toned stomach, the increase of the rise and fall of her chest –she lingers there a little— the smooth expanse of her throat that she can't wait to get her mouth on, her lips, up to her eyes, even her hair. She smiles a little at how much she can't wait to pull on it. "You'll see," she replies, voice lower than it was moments before and Rachel sits her sandwich on the counter, dinner the last thing on her mind. Or the first.

"I –I'm ready," she says quietly, a blush touching her cheeks that never fails to charm Quinn.

Her eyes widen a little because even after the months they've been together Rachel's straightforwardness still manages to take her by surprise at times. She slides closer to Rachel, gently gripping her upper thighs as she comes to stand in front of her. Hazel eyes meet dark brown with a shocking intensity that never fails to leave Rachel weak. Quinn steps closer and Rachel unconsciously parts her thighs, her eyes never leaving Quinn's.

"Are you sure?" she whispers thickly. Her hands ghost higher on Rachel's legs, tearing a gasp from her girlfriend's beautiful throat before she reaches up to cup her cheeks. "I don't want to pressure you." Her thoughts instantly fly back to the conversation she had with Santana earlier and how her roommate told her it was only a matter of time before she cheated on Rachel.

Rachel turns to softly press her lips to the palm of Quinn's hand. "I'm sure," she whispers in the diminishing space between them. "I want this."

"I want you," Quinn breathes as she leans up to kiss Rachel tenderly. She's never been one for slow and gentle but everything about her has been changing since she's met Rachel. The slight weight of tan arms wrapping around her shoulders has her feeling more content than she's ever been. She sighs languidly into the kiss, trailing her hands down supple curves before wrapping her arms around a slender waist.

Rachel moans softly into the kiss as her tongue reaches out to drag across Quinn's lower lip. She scoots further along the counter for more contact and Quinn gets the hint. Opening her mouth to let Rachel in, her hands fly to the backs of Rachel's knees before roughly pulling her forward.

"Quinn," she chokes out at the sudden contact her lower half has with the blonde. Quinn smiles before pulling her closer again, watching as Rachel's head tips back. Her own eyes flutter at the feel of Rachel's heat through the thin cloth of her shirt. She wastes no time in swooping down to pepper Rachel's throat with butterfly kisses.

Her hands fist into Quinn's hair as the blonde plants kisses all over. Her tongue snakes out and travels deep into her cleavage and she moans into tender flesh as slender hips pump into her own.

"Bed," Rachel pants before giving Quinn's hair a firm tug. "Please."

She pulls back swiftly and grabs Rachel's hand as the pair stumble into her room. The back of Quinn's legs hit the bed and she's instantly on auto pilot. Her shirt is over her head without any hesitation but a firm grip on her wrist stops her from undressing further.

Rachel's eyes roam unabashedly over smooth, pale skin. From Quinn's flat stomach to the gentle swell of her breasts just heaving to be free from the confines of her black lace bra. "You're so gorgeous." She steps forward to kiss Quinn soundly. When she pulls back her eyes are darker, sparkling with lust and adoration.

"You're beautiful. Can I see you, please?" Since they've been dating Rachel's seen Quinn topless countless times but not once as Quinn seen Rachel. _All _of Rachel. The only time she even got close was during that scene in the play. And the other time a few weeks ago when they were interrupted by a phone call. She's desperate, practically panting as Rachel's hands grip the hem of her blouse.

She slowly pulls it over her head before it pools by her feet. Which is exactly where her eye line is as Quinn steps forward. She knows of Rachel's past and how she was mocked and called anything under the sun that resembled the word ugly. Old habits die hard and to this day although Rachel can and will readily admit that her body is very toned and in shape from her early morning elliptical exercises, she still manages to be self-conscious. Quinn's arms wrap around her waist in a reassuring hug. "You're so beautiful," she murmurs into her ear as Rachel's arms wrap around her.

Her heart swells with so much love and affection for the blonde. No one's ever looked at her the way Quinn does, or touched her the way she knows Quinn will. She sighs shakily as Quinn's hands glide along her back to deftly unclasp her bra. "It's okay," she promises as she pulls back. The scrap of material falls to the floor and for the first time since she's taken her shirt off, Rachel meets Quinn's eyes. Only, Quinn's not looking her in the eye.

Her eyes darken as she licks her lips. She slowly reaches out to run her hands along Rachel's stomach. A slight shudder runs through the brunette's body as Quinn gently cups her breasts. She squeezes them and Rachel's back arches, her nipples harden under Quinn's stare and that's her ultimate undoing.

She quickly discards the remainder of her clothes and takes a little more time and care with Rachel but ultimately completely undresses her. Her hands leave burning trails all over her body from the inside of her thigh, to the dip in her back, the underside of her breast and that little spot on the back of her neck she discovered last week. Rachel's left a quivering mess in her arms as she moves her to the bed.

She climbs on top and watches Rachel's heaving breasts, hardened nipples, flushed cheeks, parted lips, and wild hair with a dreamy expression. By the end of this Rachel's going to have _real _sex hair and Quinn's going to make sure of it. She leans down to press her lithe body against Rachel's. She bites her lip as soft lips moan in her ear. She kisses Rachel briefly. "I love you," she whispers.

Her eyes mist over as the weight of this moment finally comes down on her. She has Quinn Fabray in her bed. A woman that's wanted by plenty of women and men alike on campus. One of them being a very popular member of the football team and yet she's in bed with Rachel. Making love to her. "I love you too. So much."

Her eyes close and a single tear escapes as Quinn kisses it away. "No time for crying," she murmurs.

Rachel nods with a smile that Quinn returns. She kisses her way down Rachel's jaw to her neck. Her tongue flicks out and twirls in slow circles. A quick gasp is all she hears as Rachel's fingers tangle in her hair. She's never been one for hickies but the feel of Rachel's tender flesh under her lips and tongue and now her teeth just does something to her. She bites down sharply, her eyes rolling back as Rachel's hips roll into hers. She sucks firmly as Rachel squirms under her before releasing the bruised skin with a wet pop.

"How am I going to cover that up?" Rachel asks as Quinn moves lower.

She shrugs lightly then leans up to kiss Rachel's pout away, offering to put makeup on it for her. She crawls a little lower on the bed, her torso between Rachel's legs. Her entire body shudders as her forehead rests gently in the valley of Rachel's breasts. "What's wrong?" she pants, eager to have Quinn's mouth on her.

_I can feel how wet you are. _"Nothing," she breathes lowly. She reaches out to trace the underside of Rachel's breast. Her finger ghosts around her areola to her nipple and she pinches it lightly. Rachel bows off the bed as she arches into the blonde's touch. "Quinn," she whimpers as the blonde's hot mouth envelopes her pebbled nipple. She laves the bud with her tongue before even teeth graze the sensitive flesh. She drags her mouth over to the other nipple, still pinching, twisting, pulling the abandoned one until Rachel's hands no longer pull on her hair but _push._

"Quinn, please," she moans, biting her lower lip as her hips buck into Quinn's. She can feel Rachel's wetness on her lower belly as she grinds down into the shorter girl. "_Quinn_."

Her tongue rolls over a hardened nipple once more before she releases Rachel from her mouth. "Yes, baby?" She tries to keep the desperation out of her voice because all she wants to finally be inside Rachel.

"I want more."

She swallows thickly. "How much more?"

"I –I want your mouth…lower."

She groans at the promise of that simple statement. She's not trying to be overly sexy and borderline slutty like Ashley, or too sheepish and shy to even utter a word like Chloe, it's just Rachel. That's the only way she can think to describe that sentence. And it works wonders on Quinn's body. Just the mere thought of Rachel wanting to her to go down on her—

Before she knows it, she's scrambling to the bottom of the bed and between Rachel's thighs. The most intimate scent fills her nostrils. Musky, primal, needy. It's almost too much. Eager hands immediately weave through her hair. Quinn pokes and prods and within the first minute or so she knows exactly what Rachel likes and what she doesn't care for. Like now, as the tip of her tongue traces Rachel's outer lips, sucking gently, a strong pair of thighs unconsciously wrap around her head. Her tongue flicks out and curls, touching Rachel's clit lightly before taking it into her mouth and sucking firmly.

Her mind goes into overdrive as she tries to commit everything to memory. How wet Rachel is, how good she tastes. Quinn rolls the taste of her girlfriend on her lips, moaning softly. "So good, baby…"

Rachel licks her lips. "Yeah?"

"Mhm."

She tries to keep her hips still so that she doesn't suffocate Quinn but all she can think of is to get closer. Her fingers massage through Quinn's scalp as the blonde's tongue batters against her clit ruthlessly. She whines against the onslaught, the pleasure driving her senses into overload.

Her eyes open and she peers through hooded lids to see Quinn watching her. She feels a coil in her tighten at how provocative Quinn manages to look. Her eyebrow quirked, her eyes sparkling and Rachel can practically _feel _the teasing smirk on the blonde's lips.

"_Yes_," she hisses, back arching as one of the blonde's long digits tease along her opening. So close to what she wants. Quinn's fingers circle her opening slowly before rising back up to rub her clit in tight circles. Her tongue dips low to the source of all of Rachel's wetness, burying itself inside of her girlfriend as far as she can go. Rachel's on a cloud, having the delirious thought of thanking all of Quinn's former lover's for allowing the blonde to perfect her craft. But she needs more. "Quinn."

A finely arched eyebrow is the only indication Quinn gives that she's listening because her mouth is busy right now and she's been waiting to do this since the day she learned Rachel's name. She isn't just going to _stop _because her name is being called. She hums against Rachel's heated flesh and Rachel squirms under her. "Quinn, please," she tries again.

She relents pulling away with a wet pop, lips glistening and Rachel feels herself clench at the sight. "Come here."

"You got me all over this bed, Berry," she jokes lightly as she crawls towards her prey.

Rachel licks her lips and meets Quinn halfway, crashing their lips together.

A pained groan escapes her as she tastes herself and she wastes no time in sliding her tongue into Quinn's mouth to drink more. Quinn pants heavily, crawling more up Rachel's body until the length of her presses tightly against the glorious body beneath her. Her nipples dig into Rachel's own and her hips jerk at the sensation.

Quinn gently grabs Rachel's hands and pins them above the brunette's head, fingers weaving through the girl's right hand as Rachel's left tightly grips the blonde's wrist. "Is this your first time?" she asks breathily, not wanting to be presumptuous, as her other hand skates back down Rachel's body, stopping to pinch her nipple roughly before brushing over a small patch of soft curls, settling between her thighs once more.

Rachel shakes her head no and Quinn finds herself sliding in knuckle deep with a little more force than she intended. "_Fuck_," Rachel cries out as her head tips back. Quinn stills her fingers. "Who?"

"I refuse to divulge this information while you're making love to me," she growls.

And Quinn thinks about stopping to talk about it for all of two seconds until she feels Rachel clench around her in the most delicious way. Her eyes flutter and she starts to tell Rachel that she's the tightest girl she's been in but decides against it the last second.

"You're thinking too much, Quinn," Rachel whines. "Just touch me. Please."

"Whatever you want," she murmurs entranced by Rachel's ability to completely lose herself in the heat of the moment. To give Quinn complete control and trust that it she won't abuse it. Her grip around Rachel's hand tightens as she sets a fast pace, adding a second finger when Rachel all but begs for it.

A choked sob escapes Rachel's throat at the pace of Quinn's thrusting. She squirms, her hips refusing to stay still and each brush of Quinn's nipples against her own sends fire straight through her. She bites her lip, too focused on the blonde's lips near her ear, the butterfly kisses placed against the side of her face, how her own hand grips Quinn's wrist so tightly she just knows it's bruising.

Quinn's not sure she can take it. Rachel's breathy moans and utterances of her name so close to her ear, the brunette's body writhing uncontrollably against her own, the scratch of Rachel's nipples or her hips rising and falling rhythmically.

"You're going to be the death of me," she mutters as wraps her leg around one of Rachel's bent ones and thrusts once against her to relieve tension. "Rachel," she moans softly against her ear. She can't stop. Her hips continue to languidly pump against her girlfriend and Rachel doesn't seem to mind. She lets go of Quinn's bruised wrist to wrap her arm around the blonde's waist, pulling her closer as Quinn's wetness slides along her thigh. Rachel presses a quick, messy kiss against her lips, needing more contact.

"Quinn," she answers with a whine stuck in her throat. "Please, baby. _Faster_."

Rachel's gruff voice sends ripples through Quinn's body and before she knows it, she has Rachel's leg over her shoulder thrusting _harder_ and _faster_ just like Rachel begged her to. Her own body responds to every gasp and moan of Rachel's, blunt nails scratching down her back as Quinn desperately shifts against her thigh, chasing an orgasm that has her thinking if she doesn't find it soon her entire body will burst into flames.

Her lips hungrily seek out Quinn's again. She catches the blonde's lower lip in her mouth, smiling at the hot bursts of panted breath that caress her face. Quinn adds a third finger and Rachel groans at the feeling of being stretched and so full. "You feel so good, baby."

The blonde ups her pace, her forehead resting sweetly against Rachel's as she thrusts inside her. "So tight and wet," she mumbles to herself. Both of their eyes shut tightly, their impending orgasms creeping up at an alarming rate. Rachel's back arches off the bed as Quinn's fingers reach farther to rub against something she's never felt before. Quinn bites her lip, massaging the spongy flesh, and her own clit on Rachel's thigh, on every upward stroke.

"I'm close," Rachel gasps, burying her face in Quinn's neck, the coil in her stomach drawing tighter and tighter. She feels warm all over. She licks a hot trail up the column of Quinn's throat before clamping down, teeth sinking into flesh and Quinn jerks sporadically, losing rhythm. "Mine."

"_Mine_," Quinn counters, her moan hitching in her throat, Rachel seemingly everywhere at once. Small hands find both of her breasts and tweak her nipples while Rachel places hickies all across her neck.

Quinn has a fleeting thought of how many laps she'll have to run once coach Sylvester sees all the marks on her neck. She flattens her hand, thrusting continuously into Rachel with her whole body as the flat of her palm slaps ruthlessly against her clit.

Rachel's eyes roll back. "I'm close. I'm close. I'm _so_ fucking close," she chants, voice harsh, raspy and wanton as her hips refuse to stay still. She flutters around the blonde's fingers softly and Quinn finds herself wanting this so much more than she did moments ago.

"Then come," Quinn whispers heatedly into her ear. "Fucking come for me."

Her words are like a physical caress and Rachel has the distinct thought as she climaxes that Quinn pitched her voice that low for that reason. She rises off the bed with a small shriek, her eyes squeezing shut tightly, tears prickling behind her eyelids as she holds on to Quinn for dear life. Every muscle in her body tenses and clenches overcome with uncontrollable shudders. Quinn rides her tense thigh for a few more thrusts before the sight and feel of Rachel coming around her fingers becomes too much. She comes with a quiet whimper of her girlfriend's name before she releases Rachel's hand and collapses bonelessly on top of her.

She slides off Rachel, lying on her stomach, angled away from the brunette's body heat. Rachel lets her go, eyes shut tightly as her chest heaves with each ragged breath. It's quiet for a moment, neither girl moving.

A few minutes later Quinn turns to her, a drained look on her face and Rachel laughs softly, removing strands of hair from her damp forehead. "I thought your stamina would be better than this."

Quinn scoffs, instantly perking it and scampering back over to Rachel. "It gets tiring being a top," she purrs as she leans down and kisses tempting lips. Rachel weakly gathers Quinn into her arms, kissing her forehead. Quinn in return wraps her arm around Rachel's waist, sighing quietly as she regulates her breathing.

Something in the back of her mind keeps bother her and she pulls back with an odd look on her face. Rachel stares back at her just as curiously.

"Tell me about her."

She nervously rubs her lips together. "Quinn, are we really going to do this? You don't know her."

"Does she still go here?"

Rachel's eyes soften and she guides Quinn to rest her head against her shoulder. "She doesn't go here anymore. No need to worry."

"I wasn't worried," Quinn grumbles. "It's just…" She sits up to look at Rachel. "I'm having a hard time picturing it is all."

"Why are you trying to?"

"Because I want to know. You said yourself that you haven't had very many boyfriends or girlfriends."

"That was in high school," Rachel rationalizes. She sits up along with Quinn, finally accepting that cuddling apparently isn't on the menu. "My first couple of years in college weren't much better but she was interested in me for whatever reason."

Quinn's eyes narrow. "She who?"

"Her name was Spencer. She and I weren't an item or anything but one night I was intoxicated and I wanted to know what it felt like to be with someone intimately." She grabs the sheets tangled around Quinn's nude form, taking a moment to appreciate milky skin before wrapping the sheet around her. The sweat on her skin having now cooled left her a bit cold.

"I didn't know you drank," Quinn jokes lightly. "And it was underage drinking to. Rachel Berry, you were bad."

She blushes under Quinn's mischievous eyes before continuing. "I haven't drank since. I…I don't think one's first time with anyone should be tainted with the influence of alcohol."

"Do you regret it?"

Rachel sighs quietly before looking at Quinn. "I don't." She watches Quinn stiffen in front of her and she reaches out to grab her hand. "How could I regret the very moment that made me realize my attraction to women? The very moment that inevitably led me to you."

"Smooth talker," Quinn replies with a roll of her eyes.

Rachel eases back into bed once the tension eases and Quinn follows suit, lying beside her. Her eyes flutter closed when Rachel reaches out and traces her face with a single finger. "Was she better than me?" she breathes.

Rachel barks out an indelicate laugh and Quinn's eyes fly open to look at her. "Quinn, you can't really be asking this question, can you?"

She lifts onto her elbows to glare down at Rachel. "So you're saying she's better?"

"I'm not saying anything."

"I'm better," Quinn insists.

Rachel eyes instantly darken at the blonde's low threatening tone. She swallows the sudden lump forming in her throat. "Why don't you prove it?"

Quinn smirks down at her before leaning over and draping her naked form atop Rachel's.

Challenge accepted.

* * *

Rachel awakes to the feel of soft, feminine curves pressed tightly against her own. She lies there for a moment, sighing happily as the arm wrapped securely around her tightens its hold. Her mind drifts back to the previous night and she's assaulted with pleasant images of Quinn hovering above her, of _her _on top of _Quinn _making the blonde both applaud and curse her name in the same breath. She's fallen even more in love with Quinn and can't imagine how she's gone so long throughout her life without experiencing the love that Quinn has for her. And how she'll manage to go without it…

Gently lifting the arm around her waist, Rachel slides quietly out of bed. She looks back at Quinn's angelic face, wondering for what feels like the billionth time if she's fallen in love with an angel. She places a kiss against Quinn's forehead then gathers her belongings to go take a shower.

Quinn awakes five minutes later, feeling around the bed for the warm body she was wrapped protectively around the entire night. Well, the past few hours. Quinn made sure to keep Rachel up all night. She smirks as she recalls Rachel ending each round by saying she needed to go to sleep at a timely hour. Only to be the one to initiate the next round. And Quinn damn sure made sure she finished it.

She turns over towards the edge of the bed and plants her feet firmly on the ground, stretching her aching limbs and feeling the angry lines down her back burning at the sensation of her muscles moving. One of her hands accidently knocks into Rachel's nightstand and she hisses out a swear before bringing the bruised flesh to her lips. "Smooth, Fabray."

Her eyes catch sight of a piece of paper that fell from Rachel's nightstand when she bumped into it. Picking it up, her eyes scan over it. "Looks important…" She skims across the paper, eyes widening in surprise before narrowing into anger and betrayal wondering just what the hell is going on.

She tries her hardest to wrap her mind around what's going on. She reads the paper again, eyes blinking rapidly. She flips it over, then back again. What the hell is going on?

"Why wouldn't she tell me about this?" She asks herself angrily. Her eyes well up and a traitorous tear escapes before she's able to stop it. She hops out of bed and quickly puts her clothes on, leaving the note on the bed and her heart on the floor as she walks out of Rachel's apartment.


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: **Someone I've Been Missing (The Better Half of Me)

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry; side Brittany/Santana

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU/Future fic. Quinn, a rising sophomore in college, meets Rachel for the first time just before the school term begins. An argument between them leaves Rachel wanting nothing more than to forget that Quinn even exists. But she soon finds out that she can't get rid of the determined blonde that easily.

A/N: I continually thank you for the reviews. You guys are insanely awesome. :) To an anon ThatGirlyChick: You pretty much nailed this whole chapter on the head! I felt like I was reading my own notes for the chapter. It was kind of weird, haha. But very cool. Novak Fan: Nice to see you from LJ, buddy! And to the rest of the people from LJ it's nice to see you all here.

* * *

Rachel dials Quinn's number for the third time. Her stomach drops when it rings five times then goes straight to voicemail. "Quinn, please, I implore you to call me back," she says into the receiver, voice shaky. "We need to talk about this, Quinn. I know you saw the letter and I know I should have told you but I didn't want to worry you about it until _I _made a decision. Please don't shut me out, Quinn. Just call me back. I love you."

When she came out of her shower earlier she was beside herself when she found her bed empty. The rarely seen, cynical side of herself instantly assumed –just as she thought about the blonde before their relationship began— that Quinn had gotten what she wanted and didn't even bother to stay for breakfast. She thought they were over. But upon stepping further into the room and even over to Quinn's side of the bed as she began to rip the bed sheets from her bed, she found a crumpled up piece of paper on the floor. Rachel didn't even have to pick the paper up and smooth the wrinkles out to read to know what it was; what made Quinn leave.

She hangs up the phone, eyes squeezing tightly shut as she feels tears threatening to fall. She didn't think it would be this bad. And what hurts her most is that what she ultimately decides about that letter has the potential of hurting Quinn.

* * *

Quinn listens to Rachel's voicemail three times before turning her phone off and sliding it under her pillow, a tear slipping down her cheek.

Part of her wants to call Rachel back, but another part of her just wants to be angry because she loves Rachel and spent so much time just trying to _be _with her and for Rachel to throw it all away like they're relationship means nothing hurts more than she'd ever allow herself to say.

She gets out and bed and stalks across the living room to the kitchen. Santana stares at the TV with interest, reluctantly moving her eyes toward Quinn. She gives the blonde a once over and sighs. "Look…I guess we should talk or something…"

Quinn shakes her head adamantly as she makes a beeline for the freezer. "No. I don't need this shit right now. I don't need it ever."

Santana pulls herself from the couch to follow her roommate to the kitchen. Quinn whips around in a surge of blonde hair, glaring at her friend. "I'm serious, Santana. I got enough shit on my plate right now. I don't need someone that's supposed to be my best friend ragging on me too."

"What's going on with you?" She leans back against a nearby counter to put some distance between herself and the blonde, recognizing the trapped animal look she's sporting at the moment.

"Nothing."

She grits her teeth. "You listen here, Fabray. I'm trying to apologize so you stand your ornery ass right there, shut up, and give me a chance to say what I gotta say."

Her hand wraps tightly around a carton of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream before dragging it out of the freezer. She shuts the door with a little more force than necessary before turning to Santana. Her lips press tightly together to keep biting remarks at bay as she regards the other girl evenly.

"Look, I'm sorry. Or whatever," she starts lamely. Quinn roughly shoulders past her. "Okay, wait. Seriously, Q. I'm sorry."

She sighs loudly in frustration before turning around to face her. And for the first time Santana notices the blonde's puffy eyes and cloudy expression. Something else is wrong. "Anyway. I was just mad at myself because I cheated on Brittany and I took it out on you. I don't think you'll cheat on Berry. You aren't me. I mean, how could you be? Look at me. I'm fucking hot."

She cracks a small smile at her friend. "It's cool. I forgive you. Besides, you don't have to worry about me and Rachel anymore."

Santana's face morphs into something that Quinn could venture to call sympathy. "You and Berry broken up?"

"I –I think so."

"It's either a yes or no, Q. And those hickies on your neck don't say yes."

She colors slightly as she shakes her head. "I don't know."

Santana nods slowly. If anyone knows about having a relationship go through the confusing limbo phase of not quite together but not quite broken up it's her. Hell that's her now. She looks down at the ice cream in Quinn's hand with a scowl. This isn't the Quinn Fabray she knows. "So what? You're just going to sit in your room all day and eat your large weight in ice cream?"

Quinn ignores the jab at her weight. "I don't feel like doing anything today."

"Well I do." She snatches the container of ice cream from her friends grip to place it back in the freezer. "Come on. We're going shopping for the party tomorrow night that you're going to whether you feel like it or not. Before you eat too much ice cream until you're too big to even fit into anything but plus size Sears clothes. And I'm sure as hell not going through the embarrassment of helping you shop for those."

* * *

Rachel's soft footfalls echo down the hallway as she walks to Mr. Schuester's office. She knocks softly before entering the room and shutting the door behind her.

She takes a second to look around, her eyes landing on numerous trophies that the man had won from days when he was in glee club in high school. She smiles fondly, realizing for the first time that she and he are very much alike. Both wanting stardom, or having _wanted _it in Mr. Schuester's case. She's proud of the teacher he's become but she can't help but hope that she has whatever he lacked to make it to stardom one day.

She clears her throat before walking further into the room. "Mr. Schuester, may I have a word?"

He looks up from the stack of papers at his desk, having just now noticed her presence. "Of course, Rachel. Have a seat." He leans back in his chair and runs a tired hand through his curly hair. "What can I do for you?"

"I want to apologize." His face lights up with confusion and she crosses her legs before continuing. "I –when the play was canceled and I no longer had anything going for me in the theater department; my first thought was that you were trying to ruin my career."

His eyes widen in shock and disbelief. "Rachel, I would never–"

She nods, ashamed. "Yes, I know that now. Thanks to a certain someone I realize how wrong I was. And I've come here today to say that I'm sorry. Mr. Schuester, I just want this so badly. More than I've ever wanted anything in my life and I'm just so passionate about the stage that anyone that tries to take it from me is seen as an automatic threat." Her eyes find the floor as she fidgets with the hem of her beige skirt. "I was foolish and immature and for that I'm sorry."

He stands from his chair and walks around his desk to kneel before her. "Rachel, the stage _will _be yours someday," he says confidently. "And even if I ever attempted to sabotage your chances of making it to Broadway no amount of sabotage will keep your talent from shining through. That's where you belong. That's where you'll be."

Her eyes mist over and she leans down to wrap him in a bone crushing hug. "Thank you, Mr. Schuester. I will strive for nothing but success and I'll accomplish what you couldn't do. I'll do it for the both of us."

He nods against her shoulder, laughing at the insult that he knows she wholeheartedly meant with nothing but good intent.

"I know you will, Rachel."

* * *

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong yet?" Santana fishes through a rack of clothes, looking for a top to go with a skirt she just bought. "Shopping usually makes you feel better but you're still shuffling around like your dog contracted cancer and died or some shit."

Quinn searches through the other rack, not really looking for anything but knowing that if she sits idly by that Santana will have something to say about it. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, and I'm Satan."

She hesitates, biting the inside of her lip to keep from commenting. Santana growls at the unspoken implication. "Whatever. I'm just misunderstood."

Quinn laughs a little and Santana mentally pats herself on the back. What? That was a perfectly acceptable action even for someone as badass as herself. "Well, you are capable of expressing positive emotions today. Great job, Quinn," she says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

She sobers up, plucking a shirt from the rack and handing it to Santana. "That's ugly and I'm judging you for your poor fashion choice. That's something your girlfriend would choose."

At the mention of Rachel Quinn's split second good mood takes a nose dive. She sighs heavily, chest heaving at the sudden heaviness on her heart. "She's moving."

Santana frowns at yet another ugly shirt before fishing her phone out of her purse to call Brittany. Surely she'd have better fashion taste than Quinn. She just hopes the girl isn't too mad at her still. "Where? To a different dorm? Her midget legs couldn't handle the walkup to her apartment?" she snickers at her own comment while dialing her girlfriend's— she frowns –_ex_-girlfriend's number.

"To California," Quinn chokes out.

She turns to her. Quinn meets her with weary eyes and a miserable expression on her face.

"Well, shit," Santana mutters.

* * *

She doesn't even cry when she gets Quinn's voicemail for the sixth time, having used all of her tears on every other call. Her hands run through her hair out of aggravation because she's sick of having conversations with her girlfriend's voicemail. Voice low and hoarse, she clears her throat before speaking into the receiver. "Quinn, please call. This is the third voicemail I've left you. I –I love you and I just want to talk. Please call me back."

About an hour ago she found herself at the blonde's apartment. She knocked a total of ten times before stopping and opting to just wait outside the door when neighboring doors opened to glare at her for the insistent knocking. Twenty minutes later she had tear stained cheeks as she accepted defeat and walked back to her place with her head hung.

She ends the call and licks her lips nervously before dialing Mercedes number. "Hi, Mercedes," she says shakily. "Can you please come over? And invite Kurt. Thank you."

* * *

"B should be here in ten minutes," Santana says as she slides a hotdog in Quinn's direction. "Eat. Your fat ass hasn't had anything all day so I'm sure you're starving."

She frowns at the 'fat ass' comment but accepts the hotdog, having not realized that she's gone the whole day without eating. If Rachel had known she would have instantly scolded Quinn on the physical and mental dangers of anorexia and the devastating effects it can have on her body.

They sit in companionable silence, Quinn because she doesn't feel like opening up and Santana because, although she wants to help, she knows not to push the issue until Quinn is ready.

A sense of betrayal starts to build up inside of her as she continues to think about Rachel and the letter she read in her apartment. The only emotion surpassing how betrayed she feels is how hurt she feels.

"I feel like I don't mean anything to her," she whispers candidly. Santana's eyes wash over Quinn's face and the rare moment of weakness she's allowed to bear witness to causes her chest to constrict. She doesn't say anything and she doesn't have to because in a flash of golden hair Brittany is by Quinn's side and has her wrapped into a warm hug.

"Santana told me everything over the phone," she whispers as she rubs Quinn's back soothingly. "I'm _so _sorry, Quinn."

A tear slides down Quinn's cheek and Santana quickly gathers the blonde's things before pulling her and Brittany towards the exit. "Not here, Q. Have some dignity." Her voice is warm despite her verbal jab and Quinn just nods as Brittany wipes a tear off her cheek.

* * *

Rachel furiously paces her room, her hands tightly clasped together behind her back as Mercedes and Kurt weigh in on her situation with Quinn.

"Really honey, what were you thinking?"

"Seriously, why wouldn't you tell her? Rachel, the girl is in love with you. She had a right to know."

Her brow furrows as she continues to listen to them.

"What are you going to do?"

"Are you going to move to California to jump start your career? Or are you going to stay here with Quinn?"

Rachel sighs heavily as she comes to stop in front of the two of them. That's undoubtedly the question Quinn's wondering herself. The question _she's _wondering.

About a week ago Rachel received a letter in the mail from her biological mother, Shelby. In the letter Shelby gushed about how grown up Rachel must be and how proud she is that Rachel's so close to Broadway stardom already. She went on to talk about how she was given the green light to produce a TV show about a young woman in college. _Sort of a-day-in-the-life comedy _was how she pitched it to Rachel. Once she received the good news that she could start filming her show she thought of none other than her own daughter to star as the lead. Or so the letter said. Rachel's been tossing the idea around in her head for days. Whether to drop everything and fly to Cali or stay where she is, be with Quinn who loves her, and keep striving for Broadway.

"I don't know…" She wails piteously. "I don't know anything. I can stay here and be with Quinn. And I'm in love with Quinn, I truly am. And I can have Broadway. Well, I can _strive_ for Broadway. But I'm not a child anymore. I'm not this naïve high schooler that thinks that I'll make it to Broadway simply because I have a phenomenal voice and acting chops." She looks at them both with wide, terrified eyes. "There's a real chance that I won't make it. And if I don't then what will I do? Work at some company? The only reason I take that business class is because my fathers told me to get a degree in something I can fall back on in case Broadway doesn't work out. Even they know there's a chance I won't make it."

She takes a much needed breath before slumping back onto the bed. She curls up against Mercedes and rests her head against her thigh. "I like acting. I love acting and even if I don't make it to Broadway then at least I'll have a job if I move to California. And it's not all about the job. That's my _mother _out there. I can finally get the chance to have her in my life permanently."

"You gotta make a decision, Rachel," Mercedes says gently as she soothingly strokes her hair. "None of these things are going to wait forever. "Not Quinn, not Broadway, not that acting gig, and I hate to say it but, not even your own mother. And you know that."

Rachel nods, her vision becoming blurry with unshed tears. "Which one do I choose?" she asks around a sob.

"We can't be the ones to tell you that, honey," Kurt says from somewhere above her. "But my guess would be to find out which scenario you find yourself wanting just a little more than the other."

"I want them both equally," she sniffles.

"Then which one can't you live without?"

She inhales a shuddery breath, her head shaking back and forth as if to dispel that thought from her mind. She doesn't want to have to choose and wishes that she can just have both.

"Life's pretty unfair, huh?" she asks with a watery laugh.

Kurt kisses her on the forehead as Mercedes continues to stoke her hair. "Understatement of the century."

* * *

She smoothes out her dress in the hallway mirror as her eyes glare daggers at the purple dots all over her neck. She steps closer, fingers ghosting gently over her bruised flesh as she reluctantly recalls how amazing it felt to make love to Rachel. How fast her heart was beating, how her sweat mingled with Rachel's, the tears she saw in the corner of Rachel's eyes as she came. She inhales deeply.

"You okay there, captain?"

Whenever Santana calls her captain it's usually laced with sarcasm because of how they both competed for the position over summer. However, she's comforted by the lack of mockery in her best friend's voice in this moment. "I'm fine." Her shoulders roll back as her neck elongates until her nose touches the sky. "If there's anything I know how to do it's keep up appearances." Santana nods, feeling assured at having the old Quinn back.

She turns toward Santana. "You look pretty."

"I look hot."

Rolling her eyes playfully, she walks back into the living room towards her bedroom. "Do you still have my purple scarf?"

"I'll tell B to bring it."

Quinn emerges from her room with a smile. "Let's party then."

Santana's eyes pinch in worry at the blonde's fake, well-practiced smile but she ignores it. Quinn needs a good party and so does she.

She follows the blonde out of the apartment and down the stairs. "We're _so _getting laid tonight."

* * *

Rachel sighs as she snuggles further into the bed, Kurt and Mercedes on either side of her. They're curled up on Rachel's queen sized bed watching a movie. This is the most content she's felt in the past two days since waking up and finding her bed empty and a crumpled up letter on the floor by Quinn's side of the bed. Her sense of comfort is shattered as her thoughts stray to the blonde once again. She hasn't talked to her in over a day and she's more than a little worried.

"I wonder what she's doing," she mumbles.

"She who?" Kurt asks around a mouthful of popcorn. He hands it to Rachel and she frowns before passing it to Mercedes.

"_Quinn_. The girl I've been talking about all day."

Mercedes chases her popcorn down with a swig of soda before shushing Rachel. "This is the good part. Besides, she's probably at that party tonight."

"Party?" Her eyes widen at the mere thought. Quinn at a party living it up while she's in her bed sulking like a girlfriend is supposed to do when they fight with their significant other. "How could she possibly be at a party at this very sensitive –and inappropriate time to fraternize— time in our relationship while I'm here curled up on my bed watching the socially appropriate sad movie and missing her?"

Kurt sighs. "Well you aren't really watching as much as talking," Kurt mumbles as Mercedes pries her eyes from the screen.

She offers Rachel a sympathetic smile. "Well, she kind of has to go. It's a party in celebration of the Cheerios making nationals. I'm sure if she wasn't expected to make an appearance then she'd be at home crying her eyes out just like you are."

"I'm not crying my eyes out."

"Yeah, sure. That's why your voice is so nasally. From _not _crying your eyes out."

"Was I talking to you?"

"Hey, hey," Mercedes cuts in. "Am I going to have to get between you two?"

Rachel flings the covers from her body with finality as she crawls off the bed. If Quinn thinks she's going to party at this time while she's Rachel Berry's girlfriend then she has another thing coming.

"…What's going on?" Kurt asks, a little afraid by the determined glint in her eye.

She breezes toward her closet in search of something to wear. "What does one wear to these college frat type parties?"

Kurt claps his hands giddily as he lifts from the bed. "You sit. I'll pick out your outfit. Let's see, we're going for slightly badass, pissed off lipstick lesbian girlfriend…"

* * *

Quinn stands awkwardly beside a potted plant, watching Santana down her fifth shot as she hands one to Brittany. She knows her best friend's game plan for the night is to get Brittany drunk, have sex with her, and wake up with the girl in her arms thus making Brittany realize how much she loves her. It doesn't sound like a good plan but Santana was three shots in when she slurred it into Quinn's ear.

"I wanna make a toast. Gather 'round, bitches!" Santana yells to the sea of bodies in the room. "To Quinn! My best friend." Her eyes start welling up and Quinn bites her lip to keep from laughing. She accepts the entire bottle of vodka Santana hands to her. "You're the best friend I've ever had. And you're a damn good captain! And I'm sorry for being a bitch all the time."

She starts to blubber uncontrollably and Quinn wraps an arm around her, shushing her quietly. "I know, I know."

"I just love you, okay?"

"I love you, too."

Santana continues to cry into Quinn's side as the blonde looks to Brittany with a withering gaze. Nodding in understanding, Brittany walks over to gently pry Santana away. "It's okay, San."

"Brit-Brit, I love you."

She smiles softly. "I love you, too. Now, come on. Let's go so Quinn can have some alone time."

"I love you _so _much." She looks into Brittany's eyes with sincerity. "And I'm so sorry, Britt. I hate that I cheat on you. I don't want to but I'm just so scared."

Brittany rubs her eyes tiredly. "I know you're scared, San. But it still hurts."

Santana nods against her shoulder as her arms wrap around Brittany. "Can we have that threesome?"

"Not tonight, honey."

Quinn watches them walk away, trying to fight off the sense of jealousy she feels building. No matter how many times Santana cheats Brittany will always be there. And she hasn't cheated on Rachel once yet she'll _still _lose her in the end. She walks off in search of the kitchen, feeling the need to open the bottle of vodka and down as much as it takes to get a certain someone off her mind. She's spent the past couple of days crying her eyes out and as she walks through the crowd of her peers that look up to her, envy her, and even want to _be _her, she can't help but feel numb.

A large hand grabs her wrist and she jumps at the contact. "Whoa, what's up, baby mama? Why so tense?"

Her shoulders pull tight in frustration as she turns around to face Puck with a stony expression. "I am not, nor will I ever be interested in you. I've told you countless times since last year and you need to get it through your head and back off."

A wounded look flashes across his face and she instantly regrets snapping at him. "I was just gonna ask if you wanted to dance," he mumbles.

"No," she says a little less forcefully. "And I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get all in your face. I just have a lot going on right now."

His grip on her slackens and she uses it as an attempt to slip away from him towards the kitchen. She rummages through a drawer of utensils diligently as a figure slips through the doorway.

"Quinn, I've been looking all over for you."

She tips her head back as she takes her first large sip. It slides smoothly down her throat with a quiet swallow and a bitter after taste that's less alcohol and more her. She turns around to face her guest before taking another sip. "Ashley. I didn't know you'd be coming."

She smiles slyly at the blonde as she stalks toward her. "I hope to be coming all night long."

* * *

It isn't until an hour later that Rachel enters the party. Kurt had to run back to his place to change his attire and Mercedes had to grab a pair of 'fuck me' heels, hoping she'd get lucky. She enters the room with uncertainty and immediately has to sidestep a cloud of smoke that smells questionable at best. "Where's Quinn?" she asks Mercedes, voice loudly competing against the music.

Mercedes shrugs unhelpfully. "Once your eyes get used to the smoke and darkness you should be able to see a little better. Hey, Kurt–"

She trails off as she sees him walking toward a dark haired shorter guy in the corner of the room. "We're one man down."

Rachel scowls at their predicament before deciding to take matters into her own hands. "Just stay by the door and keep an eye on Kurt. I'll find Quinn." She manages to power walk through the crowd with determination that only belongs to Rachel Berry.

She catches sight of Santana and Brittany dancing in what she can only call an obscene manner. She figures they must be drunk, because last she heard from Quinn; they weren't on the best of terms. "Have you seen Quinn?" Neither girl pays Rachel any attention, too focused on each other to even notice she's there. Rachel clears her throat loudly before huffing silently as Santana's hands trail down to Brittany's ass and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"Excuse me," Rachel interrupts around Brittany's giggle. "Have either of you seen Quinn?"

Santana's lazy smile turns into a scowl as she finally registers Rachel's presence. "What'd I tell you about breaking my friend's heart, Berry?" She untangles herself from Brittany's long limbs to loom over Rachel threateningly.

Rachel sighs quietly, not having anticipated this. "Santana, it's a little more complicated than that. Though I did give you my word and failed to comply," she concedes. "I'm sorry. And I –I want to apologize to Quinn so can you please tell me where she is?"

"I don't know where she is. But good luck when you find her because trust me when I say Quinn is an angry drunk." She shrugs flippantly before turning back to Brittany and Rachel nods her head, eyes welling with tears as she continues on her search for Quinn.

"B, what are you doing?" Santana cries out as Brittany pries herself away from her and folds her arms. "That was mean, San."

"I honestly don't know where she is, Britt. But even if I did I still wouldn't tell Berry."

Brittany continues to frown and Santana tries to change her tactics quickly before she ends up talking herself out of sex after the party. "I'm sorry?" she offers weakly.

She smiles down at the girl before wrapping her long arms around Santana's neck. "If Quinn and Rachel don't work this out by tomorrow, Santana, you won't be getting any."

A petulant groan leaves her throat and Santana's now quietly hoping that Rachel actually _does _find Quinn.

Rachel finds her way to the kitchen, having stumbled over and been shouldered past by just about everyone in the party to get there. Her shirt is wet and clinging to her from one of the football players accidently spilling his drink all over her. He instantly offered to clean it up and made a beeline for her breasts but she shooed him away and vehemently declined.

She wipes her eyes of residual tears from her incident with Santana to find the blonde standing in the kitchen with a half empty vodka bottle in her hand. Her heart drops to her stomach as she watches some girl hanging all over her. Her hand curled around Quinn's slender waist possessively as she nurses her own bottle.

Rachel's lips press into a firm line as she watches the girl tip her head back and laugh every few seconds while Quinn just looks at her with a smirk. That same sultry smirk that Rachel's come to know and love. When the girl beside Quinn gets a little too handsy for Rachel's taste she walks further into the kitchen. Quinn's eyes find hers and they look so cloudy that Rachel can barely recognize them. "Hello, Quinn," she says evenly, trying to gauge the situation. She bites her lip to keep from chastising the blonde about her underage drinking, something she can do when she's sober and the situation has been handled and decides to address the brunette wrapped around her. "I don't believe we've met. However, that is my girlfriend you're currently throwing yourself at."

"She was mine before she was yours. Isn't that right, baby?" she coos as she grabs Quinn's jaw and turns the blonde to face her.

Rachel's shoulders slump at the sight, her heart aching and her chest constricting as she forces deep breaths through her nose. She watches there distance lessen and she chokes out a sob at the sight. "Quinn, if you kiss her I'm walking out of this party and we're through." Her voice is rough and shaky and she curses herself for how weak she sounds.

Quinn's eyes slide away from Ashley's before she looks back at Rachel. It's a little dark but there's no way she can miss the telltale signs of Rachel's tears. "Are you leaving me?" she asks flatly.

The tone of Quinn's voice takes her by surprise because in the time she's known the blonde she's gotten to see many different sides of her. From arrogant and annoying, to humble and tolerable, to kind and loving, to goofy and playful. But Rachel's never seen the blonde be so aloof and shut off like she is. She doesn't know how to handle it and she's suddenly unsure if their relationship will last through the rest of the night.

"If you kiss her, then yes. Yes, I will."

"You know what I mean," Quinn snaps. She disentangles herself from the girl to take a step towards Rachel. "I thought you loved me."

"I _do_ love you," Rachel assures her as the blonde continues to walk toward her.

"Then why would you –Why would leaving even be a question? Why wouldn't you even tell me?" They ignore Ashley as she shoulders past them both and out of the kitchen.

Rachel grabs the blonde's hand and gives it a gentle tug, coaxing her reluctant girlfriend into a hug. "Can we please just go home? I promise I'll talk to you. I'll tell you everything. Let's just leave, Quinn, please."

Quinn pulls back suddenly, wrenching her body away from Rachel's. "You're not really going to California, are you?'

"I –I don't know, Quinn," she says quietly.

Quinn's face hardens as she stares at Rachel, her eyes narrowing slightly as she walks past her. "Then find me when you do know. Otherwise, leave me the hell alone."

Her vision gets bleary from unshed tears as she watches the blonde walk away from her. She walks back into the living room to find Mercedes at the doorway. Mercedes doesn't say anything, just wraps her arms around Rachel. "I'm just going to go home," she whispers brokenly.

* * *

Rachel shuffles quietly into her apartment, haphazardly tossing her keys into the general direction of her kitchen table.

She peels off her now dry shirt, the stench of alcohol permeating the air and reminding her of Quinn's clouded eyes and how expressionless the blonde was. She flips the shirt over and dabs her eyes of unshed tears, new ones falling in their place.

Deciding to call it a night, she changes into her pajamas quickly and slides under her sheets, burrowing under them and curling into a ball to find comfort. Her phone rings and she quickly gropes along her nightstand to find it, hoping it's Quinn and that the blonde will at least tell her she's safe. She sighs quietly upon realizing it's her father, Leroy, before answering her phone.

"Hi, daddy," she whispers tiredly into the phone. She laughs softly at his uncanny ability to pick up on her distress within the first two words of her speaking. "I'm fine, daddy, honestly. I'm simply exhausted because of my late night exercise before bed and–"

He doesn't even allow her to finish her story before calling her bluff. "Quinn and I are fighting," she tells him. She tries to fight back the same tears that she's tried to be too strong to cry all night but her father has always had a way of allowing her to be comfortable enough to break down. "And I –she's at this party with some _girl _and she was about to kiss her. And I told her not to and to just come home with me but she told me no," she continues to cry.

She sobs uncontrollably into the phone as her father gently shushes her with kind words. It's times like this that Rachel can see that all of his years with dealing with hysterical patients at the hospital he works at has taught him how to easily coax Rachel back down to earth. Just like Quinn has been able to do since the very beginning. Her breathing slows down into hiccupping breaths as the worst of her crying is over. Her thoughts keep flying to Quinn and wondering what she's doing and if she's safe and she mentally berates herself for even leaving in the first place. Who would be there for Quinn? Santana and Brittany are drunk and Rachel's sure that Kurt and Mercedes are drunk by now as well.

Her father continues to talk to her, having already guessed the cause of her fight with Quinn. The day Rachel received the letter she had called her fathers to get advice from them. Hiram had been on the fence about her not only flying out to a completely different coast but also about her meeting her mother for the first time. A woman, whom in his opinion, selfishly gave Rachel up for her own chance at stardom. Leroy thought that the situation had the potential to end very well or very badly but that it was all Rachel's decision and that he would respect it and be there for her one hundred percent. Hiram eventually agreed with reluctance, giving Rachel his blessing. But one thing that they both agreed on from the very beginning was that Quinn should be informed about the letter and Rachel's dilemma as soon as possible.

"I know, daddy," Rachel sniffles into the receiver, cradling the phone with both hands as if it were a lifeline. "I know I should have told her, but I didn't want her to worry. I didn't want to fight with her like we're doing now. I just want her to come home."

She's silent for a moment, licking salty tears from her lips as she listens intently to her father. "Yes, daddy, she knows I love her. I'm sure she does. Why wouldn't she?"

Her shoulders slump as she's gently reprimanded for how she handled the entire situation. "I understand," she grumbles. "I'm still young and immature no matter how much I try to tell myself otherwise. I made a mistake and I understand that now. I just wish she would have left the party with me."

More tears streak down her face as she imagines what Quinn could possibly doing right now. Wondering whether the blonde has drank herself into a stupor, passed out on some bed in the presence of a questionable individual, or if she's currently hooking up with another woman.

"Do you think she's okay?"

A loud knock startles her and she turns toward her door with wide eyes. "Someone's here, daddy," she whispers. "I have to go."

He tells her to stay on the line with him to make sure she's safe and she places her phone on her desk as she walks to the door. Standing on the tips of her toes she peers through the peephole and sighs in relief before quickly unlocking her door and swinging it open.

Her body goes on auto-pilot and before she thinks twice of it she flings herself into Quinn's arms. She inhales deeply, the scent of alcohol and strawberry shampoo swirling together into one. Neither of them say a word and Rachel's arms tighten around Quinn's neck when the blonde loosely returns her hug.

She quickly ushers Quinn into the room before closing the door and running back to her phone. "Daddy? It was Quinn at the door. Yes. Yes, that's right. I'll call you tomorrow and thank you for everything. I love you and tell dad I love him too."

The conversation ends and she turns towards Quinn to see the blonde perched on the foot of her bed, staring back at her. "You've been crying," she says quietly.

Rachel nods as she tries to wipe away the remainder of her tears. "I was really worried about you," she says softly. "Did you walk all the way here by yourself?"

"Yeah."

"Quinn, something could have happened to you," Rachel gently admonishes as she walks over to the bed to sit beside her. Quinn shrugs carelessly and Rachel can sense that there's no way she can reach the blonde in her current mood or state of mind.

She pulls her in for another hug, trying and failing not to feel hurt when Quinn doesn't respond. Hopping off the bed, she walks over to her armoire and retrieves a spare set of pajamas for her.

Quinn grabs them from Rachel's outstretched hand and walks into the bathroom to change. Rachel's heart hurts even more at the fact that something as simple as changing clothes has to be done behind closed doors as if Quinn doesn't trust her anymore.

She fights back more tears, refusing to cry anymore for the night before crawling into bed. Quinn walks back in a moment later, sparing Rachel a quick glance before placing her neatly folded dress on Rachel's chair.

Rachel watches her movements, seemingly mechanic and robotic for Quinn, even more so considering the amount of alcohol in her system. She licks her lips nervously, gathering the courage to voice the question that's been on her mind since she left the party. "Quinn, did you and that girl–"

Quinn spins around and gives Rachel a cold look, instantly shutting her up. Her lips press firmly together as she walks over to the bed and slides under the sheets. She situates herself before turning on her side away from Rachel.

"Quinn, we really need to talk about this. All of it. My letter, tonight, the status of our relationship. Everything," Rachel pleads. She reaches out to lightly touch her shoulder and Quinn curls further into herself before inhaling a shuddering breath. "We can talk about it tomorrow."

"Will you be here?"

"Will _you_?"

Rachel takes the jab in stride, taking a deep breath and swallowing the lump of tension from the air. "I'll be here," she says softly.

"Then so will I."

She nods jerkily before cautiously wrapping her arm around Quinn's waist. "I love you, Quinn."

Quinn doesn't respond but Rachel doesn't miss the way her body relaxes into her. She tightens her hold further and scoots closer to the blonde, attempting to either reassure herself or Quinn, she isn't sure. That night can easily constitute as Rachel's most restless night of sleep, but she's comforted by the fact that no matter what happens tomorrow for now, she can at least say she has Quinn.


	10. Chapter 10

**Title: **Someone I've Been Missing (The Better Half of Me)

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU/Future fic. Quinn, a rising sophomore in college, meets Rachel for the first time just before the school term begins. An argument between them leaves Rachel wanting nothing more than to forget that Quinn even exists. But she soon finds out that she can't get rid of the determined blonde that easily.

A/N: I think we have only 2...3 more chapters to go, til it's finished! :)

* * *

Quinn awakes to find herself alone in bed. This whole not being able to sleep without Rachel thing was quickly getting old. Her eyes crack open and she instantly groans against the head splitting pain she feels pulsing through her head. "I'm gonna die," she chokes out.

Alarmed, Rachel runs into her bedroom to see Quinn lying on the bed, one hand cradling her head and the other covering her eyes. She sighs in relief before walking over to a nearby window and closing the curtains. She swiftly walks back over to the bed and hands Quinn the pill and glass of water she had sat on the nightstand earlier, having anticipated the blonde's hangover.

She takes the offered pill and chucks it down her throat before chasing it with a swallow of water. Her lips glisten as she places the cup back on the nightstand and she looks up to Rachel to see her looking back down at her.

Dark eyes bore into hers and it takes Quinn by surprise the amount of emotions swirling in their depths. Relief, anger, pain, anxiousness, sadness, and love. She can tell by the set of Rachel's mouth that she's having a hard time deciding which emotion to lash out with. Her mouth opens and closes. She swallows hard before speaking. "I'm glad you're safe."

Before Quinn can even respond Rachel is out the door. She slumps back against her pillow, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes. Much of last night is a blur, she doesn't even remember the walk to Rachel's house, but she does remember Rachel's protective arms wrapped around her as they both slept.

A wave of nausea washes over her as she remembers why she had been drinking in the first place. Rachel's leaving her. To move to California to jump start a career that she apparently loves more than her. She rolls out of bed before trudging into the bathroom. She frowns at her unkempt face in the mirror before opening Rachel's medicine cabinet to retrieve a spare toothbrush. After brushing her teeth and grabbing a washcloth to wash her face she walks into the kitchen.

She sits opposite Rachel at the table and a warm cup of coffee is slid towards her. "Thank you," she whispers. They sit in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Quinn's leg bounces up and down with nerves and Rachel's tired eyes track the movement, picking up on the blonde's aggravation before she even voices it.

Cradling the mug of coffee in both of her hands for warmth, Quinn removes the cup from her lips and places it against the table. "Are you moving to California?" she says quietly.

Rachel tenses, having expected the question but still being ill prepared to answer it. There's so much more at stake than simply moving to California. "Quinn, it's more complicated than that."

"Well I would know just how complicated it is if you would have told me in the first place about that letter."

"I'm sorry. I neglected to tell you about the letter but only because I didn't want to put unnecessary stress onto our relationship."

"Look how well that turned out," she snaps, hopping from her seat. Her head hurts from the loud sound of her chair sliding across the floor but she soldiers on in her frustration.

"Quinn, sit down—"

"I don't want to sit down." She paces the floor of Rachel's kitchen, all of the anger and hurt she was feeling yesterday coming back to her full force. "We've been together for almost three months now, Rachel," she says evenly. "Were you –was I really that forgettable and insignificant enough for you to pack up your shit and leave me without even having the courtesy to tell me?"

Rachel feels her anger flare up at Quinn playing the victim when she wasn't exactly innocent the night before. "You think _you're _forgettable? Pardon me, Quinn, but it seems that whenever we have an argument you go out to party with Santana and Brittany and you spend your time drinking copious amounts of alcohol –which is illegal considering you're only twenty— and encouraging easy women to hang all over you the entire night. Seems like the only forgettable one in this relationship is _me_!" she fires back, out of her seat to come face to face with Quinn. She feels sick to her stomach as she remembers having to bear witness to the girl's obvious advances and Quinn doing nothing to stop them. And then when they almost kissed –she wants to vomit.

Quinn swallows thickly. "I didn't do anything with her," she lamely defends. Her hackles rise at Rachel's tone and she's fired up again. "And don't say 'whenever we have an argument.' This is our first one! And I thought you were leaving me. Which you are by the way. And finally," she steps close to Rachel, "don't you lecture me about underage drinking. Have we forgotten about Spencer already? Huh? Just like you're going to forget about me?"

Rachel crosses her arms across her chest, against the barrage of claims flying from Quinn's mouth. Her eyes leave Quinn's as they travel to the floor. "I'd never forget about you," she whispers softly. "Did you…did you sleep with her?" she asks in a small voice.

Her shoulders slump in an unconscious display of sympathy for how small and fragile Rachel sounds. "No," she answers. "No –I…Rachel, I promise I didn't."

"Quinn, please don't lie to me."

"I'm not!" she yells back, wanting to pull her hair out in frustration. She settles for pushing it back from her face. "I didn't do anything with her, Rachel. I swear to you. I told you I wouldn't lie to you about things like that."

Rachel nods her head, feeling tears in her eyes. "Then why did you just _stand _there and let her touch you while I was watching you? Her hands were all over you and you did nothing to stop her!"

"I was angry! I thought you were leaving me and I had nothing to lose! But Rachel, the second you left I was stumbling all over the place trying to get my coat and to tell Santana and Brittany that I was leaving. And then I walked back here. It just…it just took longer because I was drunk and stupid and couldn't find my way."

Rachel's mind instantly flies back to how relieved and happy she was to have Quinn stumble through her door step the night before, no matter how upset she was at the time and still is she was just happy that she was safe.

"But none of that seems to matter," she mumbles. "You're still leaving." Her voice hitches and Rachel steps closer to comfort her.

Quinn shakes her head, backing away from Rachel's outstretched hand. Her hand curls into itself as it falls limply her side and Rachel backs away to put the distance that Quinn obviously wants between them. "Quinn, you don't understand wh—"

"Why are you leaving?" she asks. "Is it because Schuester kicked you out of his stupid play? Move. On. Rachel. There are hundreds of plays in New York alone that are written every day for you to star in. Hell you're the one that wants Broadway so badly. You aren't going to get it in California."

Rachel runs her hands through hair, frustrated with Quinn's almost condescending tone of voice. "My mother is in California, if you must know. You know? My _mother_? The one that I've never had a chance to know? The one that's made it big in California and wants to share some of her wealth with her _daughter_? _That _mother!"

"Oh, I don't know _that _mother," she growls. "The mother I know of you having gave her own _daughter _up for adoption because _she _wanted to make a name for herself and couldn't possibly deal with the struggle of taking care of the life that _she _created."

Everything seems to stop as Quinn's words soak in. Rachel inhales a sharp breath, her heart shattering at words that she wasn't prepared to hear. "Get out," she whispers. "Just leave. Please."

Quinn's breath hitches at the quiet command. They stand there for a few moments more, both silently begging the other to say something. When Rachel doesn't say anything further Quinn just spins on her heel, heading towards the bedroom. She grabs her dress and fumbles to put it on as quickly as possible, changing her shoes and heading towards the apartment door.

She passes by the kitchen to see Rachel standing there, arms wrapped tightly around her middle as she stares at the floor.

"She's using you, Rachel."

Rachel doesn't look up at her and Quinn just walks out of the door, slamming it loudly behind her.

Once the door is closed Rachel sinks down to the floor, allowing her tears to fall freely.

* * *

"Same dress as last night, Q? You haven't done the walk of shame in a _while_," Santana drawls from the couch with her arms full of Brittany.

Quinn storms through the apartment angrily, ignoring Santana's comment and bypassing the couple making out on the couch without a word as she walks into her room and slams the door. She's never felt like this before. It's a trend she's realized over the entire course of dating Rachel. Rachel's always managed to make her feel things she's never felt before but they were normally positive and sometimes embarrassing emotions. But what she's feeling now; sadness, despair, anger, these aren't feelings that she's ever experienced while being with Rachel.

Deciding to be a little more proactive in her sulking, she decides to take a much needed shower. She reaches into her closet to pull out the pink, plushy towel Rachel bought for her. Her girlfr –Rachel had told her about a month ago that Quinn's bathroom towels of choice did not have the optimum thread count to properly dry off the traitorous water molecules on her body. And that was probably the reason why she contracted such infectious illness, like mono for example.

She showers and towels dry, regret sinking in about how she left things with Rachel as she uses the towel that the brunette gave her to dry off. Simple things like how soft, feminine, and how good the towel smells remind her of Rachel.

When she walks into the room she finds Santana and Brittany looking back at her from their place on her bed. She chooses not to greet them, dropping her towel and getting dressed as if she's the only one in the room. And she really, really wants to be.

"Gross, Q. If I wanted to see a flat ass and saggy tits, I'd ask someone's grandmother to strip."

"That's not nice, San. Or true. Quinn has a really nice ass 'cause of squats and her breasts are really perky."

"Whatever. Stop checking her out, B."

She grits her teeth, trying not to say anything scathing. Her eyes prick with tears and she almost wants to stomp her foot with the absurdity of it all. How unfair everything is. Santana cheats on Brittany left and right and yet when she came in from what she can only assume is breaking up with Rachel, she finds the two of them curled up on the couch like everything is just so fucking perfect.

Her thoughts fly back to Rachel crying. Tears of sadness and hurt falling down her cheeks. Quinn feels sick. If it's one thing she's come to hate in such a short amount of time, it's not only Rachel crying, but her being the cause of Rachel's tears.

"You gonna put some clothes on soon or—"

"Shut _up_!" She growls as she spins around to face them both. "Shut up and get out, Santana. I don't even want to see your face right now."

Santana stands slowly, a retort on her tongue, but Brittany stands up with her and places a placating hand on her arm. "San, can you go order us a pizza with lots and lots of cheese," she asks pleadingly. And even though she knows she's being played she can't help but oblige. "If I hear you in here yelling at my girl I won't hesitate to kick your ass, Quinn."

She ignores her roommate's threat as she buttons her jeans before pulling her white, cotton shirt over her head. Today doesn't feel like the type of day to play dress up. She offers Brittany a disarming smile before sitting down on her bed, the taller blonde following soon after.

Brittany immediately wraps her up in a tight hug and for the first time in the past couple of hours Quinn just _breathes._ A shuddery breath that borders on painful, but she hugs her back, refusing to cry another tear.

"I think it's over, Britt," she whispers. "I'm such an asshole."

Brittany just hugs her tighter while gently rocking her back and forth.

* * *

Rachel slides out of bed when she hears a loud knock. Having peeled herself from the tiled floors of her kitchen a half hour ago, she was content to spend the day moping in her bed, maybe eating vegan ice cream and watching _Funny Girl _if she was feeling up to it later. Her hope that it's Quinn on her doorstep and that the blonde has come back so that they can both apologize and forgive each other is short lived when she finds both of her parents at the door.

"Hi dad…daddy." Her head tilts to the side in confusion as she leans heavily against her wooden door. "Not that I am not happy to see you, ecstatic even, but…what are you doing here?"

Leroy and Hiram share a smile at their daughter's puffy eyes, red nose, and slightly disheveled appearance. "Well your father told me that you called him last night crying over the phone about your girlfriend. What kind of father would I be if I didn't come here to take care of my baby?"

Rachel spares Leroy a dirty look at his betrayal. One he deflects by his refusal to look at her. "Anyway," Hiram says exaggeratedly, focusing his husband and daughter's attention back on him. "Since it's only a four hour drive—"

"Only," Leroy scoffs quietly. "You weren't the one that had to make the drive."

"—We decided to make the trip down here to see you, sweetheart," he finishes, successfully ignoring his husband. "We're worried about you."

Her father's concerned face tears through her and before she knows it she's shuffling aside to let them in. They both pull her into a big hug and Hiram gently wipes the tears from her eyes as Leroy places a kiss atop her head. She pulls back, clearing her throat and gathering her bearings as she leads her fathers to the living room. They all sit down and Leroy and Hiram wait in the tense silence for Rachel to speak.

"She was right," she whispers with a small shrug of her shoulders. "She was an arrogant pig head. But she was right."

* * *

"I was right," Quinn insists as she stares into Brittany's clear blue eyes. "Her mother is using her and I just _know _it. And when I told her that, she told me to get out." She tosses her arms up in frustration. "She kicked me out, B."

Brittany watches Quinn pace back and forth in front of her. They had begun talking and the shorter blonde had gotten so riled up that she chose to pace the room instead, needing to do something other than just sit around and talk about her feelings. "I don't know anything about the situation," Brittany admits as her eyes track Quinn's pacing. "But maybe you talking about her mother hurt Rachel's feelings. People like their mothers, Quinn."

"But her mother doesn't care for her!" Quinn yells. "Not like I do!"

Moments later Santana is bursting through Quinn's door. "What the hell did I tell you about yelling at her?"

"San, calm down."

"This is _not _happening to me right now. You wanna fucking go, Santana?" Quinn asks as she swiftly closes in on her roommate. "Because just like you said to me a few days ago I don't have anything to lose right now."

"Don't test me, Quinn, because I'll knock you right through this fucking—"

"Both of you stop it!"

Brittany quickly moves to stand between the two before they're able to tear each other's throats out. "You've both been friends for a really, really long time. Don't fight over this. Over nothing." She turns to Santana with a weary expression. "San, Quinn is really going through a lot right now. Either sit in here with us to help or go outside and eat the pizza."

Quinn exhales loudly as her shoulders slump. Adrenaline gone, she sits heavily on her bed, her chin resting in her hand. If Rachel ever forgives her for the way she talked to her, Quinn would count it as a miracle. She wouldn't even forgive herself in she was in Rachel's shoes. Brittany gives Santana a gentle nudge and they both walk to the bed, sitting on either side of Quinn.

"Are you going to let her leave, Q?" Santana asks. "Because the Quinn I know wouldn't give up on anything without a fight. If she wants something she gets it. No questions asked."

"Yeah, well Rachel's determined. If she wants California then she's going to get it. Besides, after the way I treated her, she doesn't want me," she replies, feeling wholly defeated.

Santana nods, before placing a hand on Quinn's shoulder. "Say goodbye? And apologize?" she offers. "I mean, not that that type of stuff matters to me." Brittany flashes her a wounded look. Santana's jaw clenches as her eyes flit from Brittany's back to Quinn. "But you're a pansy ass so you're the type to want a final goodbye and shit like that. And I'm sure Berry would appreciate the apology."

She smiles a little. "I guess I could do that. I owe her that much."

Brittany gives her a heartfelt hug before rising from the bed. "I guess I'll see you two later," she mumbles.

Santana's up like a shot, rounding the corner as she hears the door to her apartment close with finality. "B, wait!"

* * *

"I told her that this would be great for us. And that we'll finally get the chance to be a family." She sniffs slightly as she recalls her conversation with her mother over the phone earlier. "She said…she said that's not really what she's looking for. She already has a family. A loving husband and a daughter. And she loves me. She loves me very much. But that my being on the show would strictly be a professional matter. The press can't find out about her illegitimate daughter."

"I never liked her."

"Hiram, honey, calm down—"

"I will not calm down!"

The two men share a look as Rachel dabs her eyes with the tissue. Hiram instantly calms after looking at his husband, understanding that he needs to put his own feelings about Shelby aside to support his daughter in her time of need. "I'm sorry this had to happen to you, honey," he says sincerely as he strokes Rachel's hair.

"Rachel, you know we love you more than anything, honey," Hiram begins. A crumpled up tissues is held tightly in Rachel's grip as she prepares for the one thing she hates the most. Being told she's wrong. "But I agree with Quinn. I don't like the way she treated you and if I ever see her she's getting a stern talking to," he says coldly. "But she is right about your mother. We're all able to look at the situation objectively. And from our points of view, if you fly to California with your heart on your sleeve then it'll get crushed, sweetheart."

"Your mother loves you," Leroy promises, glaring mildly at his husband's grumbled, "Well, that's questionable."

"But I agree with your father for agreeing with Quinn."

"Does anyone agree with me?" Rachel asks bitterly. She knows that Quinn was right and that although her mother loves her, Rachel's pretty positive that the only reason she wants her to star in her show is so the ratings can go through the roof. Not so that she can catch up on lost time with her daughter.

"Uh…" Leroy begins. "I agree with your enthusiasm to get to know your mother?" he tries. Rachel turns to stare at him blankly. "It's just that…you don't want to star in TV show, Rachel. You want Broadway. You want to act _and _sing. And you also need to finish school. I know you want your mother but I think that if she really wanted to be in your life then she would have at least flown here once to see you. Has she done that?"

"And we're not ganging up on you," he continues warmly, knowing how sensitive his daughter can be when she's told she's wrong. "We just want what's best for you."

"And we don't want to see you get hurt," Hiram adds.

She opens her mouth to somehow formulate _some _kind of protest but a firm knock at the door stops her. "Did you invite grandma too?" she asks Leroy as he gets up to open the door.

"Don't be silly," he jokes lightly. "I'd _never _call Hiram's mother."

He peers through the tiny peephole. "Hey, Rach. There's a blonde outside your door. Could it be Quinn?"

Rachel's head perks up, whirling around to face her father with wide eyes. "Is it her?" she whispers.

"I don't know," he teases. He looks through the peep hole again. "It could be."

"Daddy, open the door before she leaves," she whines in return.

He unlocks the door –not nearly as hasty as Rachel would like— before opening it. The blonde in front of him looks just as disheveled as his daughter does and he offers her a sympathetic smile. "Hi, I'm Leroy, Rachel's father. You _must _be Quinn."

She gently takes his offered hand into her own, surprising him with a firm handshake. "Yes, sir," she says with a shaky voice. "I –It's nice to meet you, sir." Leroy gently pulls on the hand in his grip until Quinn is wrapped up in his arms.

"Don't worry, I won't stand here and berate you for making my daughter cry." Quinn's shoulders instantly slump as she relaxes in his arms. "However, I can't promise the same about my husband." Leroy leans down to whisper conspiringly. "He's the tough one."

She gulps loudly and Leroy's laugh is just as loud. He pulls back to wrap a supporting arm around Quinn's shoulder. "I'm joking, honey. My husband couldn't hurt a fly."

"I heard that!"

He leads her into the living room where Rachel and Hiram are and Quinn's eyes find Rachel like a heat seeking missile. She doesn't even notice when Leroy releases his hold on her to sit down on the couch. Her steps stutter as she walks toward Rachel slowly, an array of emotions swirling inside of her. She comes to stop in front of the coffee table, the only physical obstacle standing between her and the pair of dark, puffy eyes staring intensely back at her.

"Quinn, this is my husband Hiram," Rachel hears Leroy say in an attempt to break the ice. Her eyes roam over the blonde in front of her. Her tense posture under her form fitting jeans and t-shirt, her arms folded tightly across her middle as a defense mechanism, her stormy, hazel eyes, slightly puffy just like Rachel imagines her own are. She inhales a shaky breath, being hit full force with the emotions she felt hours ago as Quinn reaches across the table to shake her father's hand.

"I –I'm Quinn," she says numbly, chastising herself moments later for the slip up.

"Yes, I know dear," he says. "You're the woman that made my daughter cry."

Rachel cuts him a sharp look as Quinn bows her head in shame. "Yes, sir. I actually came to apologize."

"Oh, you did, did you?" he replies sarcastically. "Yes, an apology will make it all better."

Quinn stiffens in front of the three pairs of eyes on her. Never having been in a situation quite like this before, she chooses silence, clasping her hands demurely in front of her. She feels very much like a child being scolded. And at the age of twenty, the feeling is kind of foreign to her. Her heart thuds against her chest as blood rushes to her ears. She takes her bottom lip between her teeth as she tries to think of something, _anything _to say. "The way I've treated her the past few days was wrong," she whispers, losing all bravado. "I was condescending, scathing, and just rude. I let my feelings control my actions as well as my mouth and I hurt the one person I care about most."

She finally gathers the courage to look up, her misty hazel eyes meeting Rachel first before sliding to Leroy, then Hiram. "I love your daughter, sir," she says firmly. "I may not have shown it the best way I know how over the past few days, but I've never cared for anyone else as much as I care for her. I –I need her."

Rachel's eyes widen at the bold claim. She opens her mouth to speak but Quinn continues.

"But I'll let her go if she wants to move to California. All I want to do is say I'm sorry. I just want her to forgive me because I can't handle her being angry or upset with me."

"Fathers, may Quinn and I have a moment alone?" Rachel asks, cutting Quinn off from saying anything further. Her head feels like it's spinning. Hiram looks affronted as Leroy gracefully lifts to his feet. Quinn can tell where Rachel got her grace from. "Come on, honey," Leroy drawls, grabbing his husband's hand before he has a chance to protest. "We'll be on the stoop outside, Rachel. Try not to leave us out there too long or we'll find another daughter to latch on to," he jokes as he pulls his reluctant husband out of the door, closing it tightly.

Quinn licks her lips nervously as she shuffles around the table to sit beside Rachel. "I just have a few things to say and then I'll be out of your hair, okay?"

Rachel nods, her heart being gripped in despair with the knowledge that this is probably the last conversation she'll have with Quinn.

"Okay," she sighs. "First, I want to start off my saying I love you. And that—"

"I love you too, Quinn," Rachel whispers, meeting Quinn's eyes. "I love you so much."

Quinn nods with a small smile. "And because I love you, I want what's best for you." She reaches out and takes Rachel's hand between her own, watching intently as Rachel intertwines their fingers. "And I…I'm known to be selfish. I take what I want and I hold it near and dear to me and I never let it go. But I can't do that with you. I can't do that_ to_ you."

Rachel watches with awe as Quinn's face slowly crumbles, her bottom lip quivering and her eyes welling with tears. "I stand by what I say, Rachel. I love you more than your mother does and I know that for a fact. But if you want the chance to have a functioning relationship with her and if you want that TV show then I won't stand in your way."

She leans forward to kiss Rachel softly. Rachel inhales sharply against the tears she feels on her lips. Her hands release Quinn's own to tangle in her hair as she scoots closer to the blonde. Body incredibly starved for contact, she presses as tightly against Quinn as she possibly can, her chest heaving against the blonde's with each ragged breath. She cries. She cries for every tear she's shed over the situation, every time she's had to watch hurt blossom on Quinn's beautiful face, for the scene she walked in on in the kitchen at the party, for the letter she got from her mother that started this whole situation.

Quinn pulls away, panting heavily into the air. Her forehead falls gently against Rachel's as timid hands cup her cheeks, wiping tear after tear away. "I'll let you go," Quinn sobs, even as her arms wrap around Rachel's waist and tugs her closer. "I don't want to. But if you want to move to California, I'll let you go."

"I don't want to leave," Rachel begs. Her arms wrap around Quinn's neck as she burrows her face into her shoulder.

"But I thought—"

Rachel tightens her hold around Quinn. "I love you, Quinn." She pulls back to place kisses along the blonde's face before looking her in the eye. "I –the night of the party I called Mercedes and Kurt over to consult with them about the predicament of whether or not to stay or move to California."

Quinn's face darkens at the knowledge that there were even more people that knew about Rachel moving than she did. Rachel continues before the blonde could voice her upset. "I had asked them to help me choose what to do and neither of them had an answer. But Kurt gave me some pretty good advice." She licks a tear from her lip before continuing. "He told me to choose which one I can't live without."

Her brow furrows in confusion. "Rachel, I don't understand where this is going. Please, just tell me."

"It's you, Quinn." Rachel smiles softly at her. "I've arguably been without my mother for twenty-one years and I have gotten along just fine. But I…" Her heart starts to thud in her chest as the weight of this moment finally comes crashing down around her. She can only hope that she won't scare the blonde away. Rachel knows that she feels things too intensely and that it can be intimidating for others. Just like that time in choir when the solo for _I'm the Greatest Star _went to a girl _not _named Rachel Berry. Rachel isn't proud to say that she paid a delinquent to place a boot on the girl's car in order for her to miss her chance to perform the solo, thus having the song go to Rachel. But drastic measures had to be taken.

"I love you," she says softly. "And although I can go the rest of my life without having my mother being a part of it, I can't nor do I want to imagine being without you."

The words don't register right away but Rachel can tell the moment when they do. Quinn's jaw drops and her eyes widen, with this sort of faraway expression in them. Quinn's mind is fried. Rachel wants to be with her. Rachel isn't moving. Rachel wants to _be _with _her_. And Quinn doesn't want to get ahead of herself but she's sure Rachel's little speech had the undertone of a lifetime commitment tagged onto the end.

"You…" Rachel breathes a sigh of relief when Quinn's eyes refocus, having thought for a moment that the blonde had had a stroke. "You want to be with me?" Her entire face softens with aching vulnerability and Rachel thinks she's just fallen in love all over again.

She nods enthusiastically. "I do. I really do. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I made you feel like you weren't enough or that I don't care about you. I just—"

"That's your mother. I get it. People like their mothers," she blushes a little, unconsciously mimicking Brittany's earlier words. "And I'm sorry, really. The way that I acted, everything I've said to you. It was childish and uncalled for."

Rachel nods her forgiveness before biting her bottom lip nervously. "I want to be with you, Quinn. I –if you'll still have me."

"Are you kidding me?" Quinn leans forward and wraps her arms around Rachel, sighing contentedly when Rachel returns the hug. "Of course I'll still have you." Her arms tighten around her girlfriend. "You're mine," she growls lightly and Rachel giggles at how light and free they are together once more.

Quinn pulls back to brush Rachel's hair behind her ear. Their lips meet softly, lovingly as their hearts repair themselves. Rachel's hands roam freely over the expanse of Quinn's body as if to reclaim her from that brief stint of their disconnectedness. When Quinn's lips pull away from her own to nip down the side of her neck she suspects the blonde's doing the same.

"Do you think we can just stay here and do this all day?" Quinn rasps against Rachel's soft skin. She traces her collarbone with the tip of her tongue, reveling in the low groan that leaves her girlfriend's pouty lips.

"I don't think so," Rachel replies. "Dad is very determined. And although I'm certain that daddy wants to leave, they'll dutifully stand outside until I come down to tell them everything is okay."

Quinn nods as she slows down her ministrations, trying to calm the fire inside of her. She rests her head in the crook of Rachel's neck as she regulates her breathing. "I guess we can all go out to dinner. My treat?" she offers. "I mean, this _is _my first time meeting your fathers and I've already made a shitty impression by making you cry. I know for a fact that Hiram doesn't like me already."

"Language," Rachel admonishes as Quinn pulls back to look at her. She smiles fondly at the blonde, grabbing her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "But I would very much like that. And I have the utmost confidence in your ability to win dad over."

Quinn smiles back in relief at the pieces of normalcy already falling back into place in their relationship. She stands from the couch, tugging Rachel with her. "So is everyone on this little excursion vegan but me?"

Rachel nods with a grin. "I hope that won't be an inconvenience."

"Great," Quinn groans wryly. "So no steak for me tonight."

She's comforted by Rachel's warm fingers laced between her own as they hop down the stairs to meet her parents. And suddenly, not getting to enjoy a steak doesn't seem too bad in comparison to enjoying Rachel's company.


	11. Chapter 11

**Title: **Someone I've Been Missing (The Better Half of Me)

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU/Future fic. Quinn, a rising sophomore in college, meets Rachel for the first time just before the school term begins. An argument between them leaves Rachel wanting nothing more than to forget that Quinn even exists. But she soon finds out that she can't get rid of the determined blonde that easily.

A/N 1: Thank you for all of the reviews that you guys leave every chapter! And thank you to the anons! Since I can't reply to your reviews in private I'll publicly thank you guys.

A/N 2: The last two chapters of the story are the only ones that haven't been written beforehand. Chapter 12 is halfway written but I'm not sure when I'll be able to finish the story. I tied this chapter up in a nice little bow though so I won't leave you guys with any cliffhangers. Hopefully I'll finish within the next month so I just ask you guys to bear with me.

* * *

Ever since her reunion with Rachel and the brunette burning the letter her mother gave her –dramatically Quinn might add—things between the couple had been going smoothly. It had been about a month since the incident had occurred and Quinn and Rachel were able to slip seamlessly back into their relationship.

Just thinking about Rachel brings a smile to Quinn's face which is why she's currently scowling at her own reflection. She isn't thinking about Rachel. She's thinking about her ponytail and wondering if she can get it any higher on her head.

Momentarily content with its position, Quinn reaches to her right to grab her curling iron. Santana breezes through her room to grab her favorite bottle of Quinn's lotion. A bottle of lotion that Quinn's told her many times in the past to just buy her own bottle of. Santana would just scoff and tell her that part of the fun of getting the lotion was knowing it pissed Quinn off when she used it.

"Tighten up your ponytail!" she calls to Santana as her roommate scampers out of the room.

"Make me, bitch!"

She growls lowly. What's the point of being the captain of the squad if her second in command doesn't listen to her? She chooses to ignore Santana's comment as she meticulously curls her hair, trying to ease her nerves.

It's the day of nationals. And not only that, it's the day that Rachel gets to meet Quinn's parents. Her girlfriend had been nagging for weeks to get the chance to meet Quinn's parents and the blonde had been putting it off for as long as she possibly could. But with nationals happening today, her father called her a few days ago to inform her that he and her mother would be flying in to watch her compete. And although Quinn called to have them visit in order to fulfill Rachel's wish of meeting them, she was still instantly filled with dread. She warned Rachel about her parents and in true Rachel Berry fashion, she didn't take the warning seriously in the slightest.

With a flick of her wrist, she places one last spiral curl in her hair before gliding over to her closet, rummaging for her Cheerios uniform. She hears a knock at the door and a reflexive smile graces her features. "Can you get the door? I think it's Rachel."

Weeks ago Quinn would have been tripping over herself to get to the door before Santana for fear that her best friend would kill her girlfriend. But now it seems that the two brunettes in her life have managed to form some sort of truce and acquaintanceship. She rips her uniform off the hangers, quickly sliding her skirt up slender thighs before zipping it and working on her top, eager to see Rachel.

"Greetings, Santana," Rachel says as she walks into the apartment, taking a seat on the sofa.

"Hey, Berry. Q is getting ready so she'll be out in a minute. Unless you want to join her. In which case I'll have to demand the two of you keep it down," she snickers as she sits down beside Rachel on the couch. She colors slightly. "That's alright. I'll wait for her out here."

Santana shrugs before kicking up her feet on the coffee table and flipping on the TV. "Heard you're meeting Q's parents," she begins conversationally. "Hope they like you. Doubt it though."

Rachel stiffens at Santana's side. "You don't think I'll make a good impression?"

"I'm sure you'll put on the charms and manners and whatnot. But if the Fabrays don't even like their own daughter then what makes you think they'll like you?"

"They like me just fine," Quinn gripes as she steps into the living room. "Stop talking shit."

Santana grumbles out a "Whatever" as Rachel simply stares at Quinn, captivated. She mentally ticks off every time Quinn's called her skirts too short and arrives to the conclusion that the blonde has no right to talk. Her skirt barely covers her ass and as Quinn does a spin to ask her if she looks presentable, Rachel catches a glimpse of the purple spanks under her equally purple uniform. A thousand words come to mind about Quinn's appearance, all of them being slightly more obscene than simply presentable.

"You look great," Rachel chokes out. Santana smirks as she side eyes the shorter girl. "Yeah, Quinn," she agrees. "You look hot."

Rachel glares coldly at her as Santana's eyes rake down Quinn's body. She folds her arms tightly across her chest. "Santana, I must kindly ask you to stop ogling _my _girlfriend."

Quinn smiles at Rachel as she crosses the room to deliver a kiss to her lips as a balm to her rarely displayed possessive side. "Leave her alone, San."

She hops off the couch as Quinn leans down again to kiss Rachel again. "I'm not staying to watch this. I'ma go see if B needs help. Later, losers."

Quinn pulls back from Rachel to run back to her room. "You can come back here if you want, Rach. I just have to finish my makeup."

Rachel follows the blonde to her room, the sudden spike in her arousal because her girlfriend's appearance worn off, giving way to feelings of trepidation at meeting her parents. At first she was excited when Quinn told her that her parents were coming to watch her compete. She'd been dying to meet the blonde's parents just like any interested girlfriend would. But after hearing what Quinn's been telling her for months about her own parents coupled with Santana's warning in the living room, Rachel's more than a little nervous.

She watches as Quinn busies herself in front of the mirror, carefully applying her eye liner. Her hands unconsciously fidget with the hem of her maroon skirt as her eyes find the blonde's carpeted floor. "You don't think your parents will like me? I –is that why you've been so adamant about my not meeting them?" she asks quietly

She kind of wants her question to go unnoticed but Quinn's head whips around so fast that her ponytail narrowly misses slapping her in the face and Rachel thinks she's given her whiplash. "Why would you think that?"

Her fidgeting increases as Quinn comes closer to her. She kneels before Rachel and takes her shaky hands in her own. "It's hard for anyone not to love you, Rachel," she says sincerely.

"Then why have you been putting this off for so long? You don't want me to meet them and then Santana just said—"

"Santana's an asshole," Quinn drawls. "She's just mad that my parents don't like _her. _And for good reason."

She finishes with a laugh that isn't at all reassuring to Rachel. Quinn sighs quietly as her right hand reaches out to gently lift Rachel's chin up to lock eyes. "The reason I don't want you to meet my parents has nothing to do with you and everything to do with them. They're not accepting of this." She gestures between herself and Rachel and their intimate contact in hopes of getting her point across. "If my parents were anything like yours then I would have booked a flight to Lima with you months ago. But they're not. And I don't want you to meet them and feel inadequate afterwards because if anyone is capable of making a person feel awful about themselves all the while wearing the politest smile, it's a Fabray."

"But," she continues, "I called my father this morning and told him that after nationals we're all going to dinner because I have someone I want him to meet."

"Someone?" Rachel asks with a skeptical eyebrow.

"I couldn't say girlfriend." At Rachel's frown she elaborates. "I couldn't just call him up and say 'Hey dad. Your gay daughter is even gayer, complete with a girlfriend that I want you to meet over dinner.' He would have backed out of the whole thing. I'm trying, Rachel."

"I know. I'm sorry." She leans forward to wrap her arms around Quinn's neck. "Thank you," she whispers. "I know you don't want to do this."

"No, I don't," Quinn admits as she wraps her arms around Rachel's waist. "But this is important to you."

Rachel presses a kiss to Quinn's cheek as she pulls back to finish applying her makeup. Her stomach still has knots of anticipation and nervousness but she plans on putting her best foot forward and leaving a lasting, positive impression on Quinn's parents.

* * *

The crowd cheers loudly as the competition dwindles between the Cheerios and another team with green uniforms that Rachel was unable to get the name of. She watches through the slits of her hands covering her eyes as Quinn is thrown carelessly into the air for the third time this routine.

"This is barbaric," she grumbles, heart leaping out of her chest every time her girlfriend puts her entire body on the line for the sake of a good performance.

"Lighten up, girlfriend!" Mercedes says from beside her. "She knows what she's doing."

"And that male cheerleader below her looks buff enough to catch her without fail," Kurt supplies from her other side. "Really buff…"

Rachel scowls at how calm both of them seem to be as they continue to watch the performance. That wasn't either of their girlfriends up there risking paralyzation and an expensive trip to the E.R. just for the sake of winning a competition. Then again…neither of them even dated girls.

She sighs as she takes her eyes off the gruesome display in front of her to scan the crowd. Even though it's highly unlikely, she keeps wondering if she'd be able to see Quinn's parents from where she's sitting. Although she has no idea what either of them look like. Quinn doesn't exactly have their photos framed and hung in various places around her apartment like Rachel does of her dads' photos. The blonde had offered to point them out to her before she went out to perform so that Rachel could sit beside them. But Rachel had turned down the offer, opting to meet and greet them while Quinn was present, if only for the comfort the blonde could provide.

Her eyes focus again as Quinn tops a very intricately made pyramid, Santana and Brittany just below her and supporting her weight. She's the first one out of her seat, clapping and cheering for the blonde as others follow suit.

Quinn breathes a sigh of relief as her chest heaves up and down with labored breaths. "It's over," she whispers down to Santana and Brittany.

Brittany nods enthusiastically. "Only for a few weeks," Santana grumbles. "Then it's straight to camp for another eight weeks. Sue's worse than our coach in high school."

The three of them carefully dismount the pyramid as the judges' hushed whispers become more heated. The announcer runs over to hear the final verdict and Rachel is on the edge of her seat as the man runs over to the middle of the field, facing the audience. She crosses her legs tightly in anticipation, eyes darting to Quinn briefly to see the blonde's eyes narrowed in concentration. She loves when Quinn gets that look.

"And the winner is…"

He takes a deep, dramatic breath to build anxiety within the crowd and Quinn's arms tighten against her chest as Rachel's legs cross impossibly tighter.

"The Cheerios squad!" He exclaims loudly, throwing his cue card in the air as Rachel and the rest of the audience lift from their seats to loudly cheer for the winning team.

Brittany instantly scoops Santana up in her arms and Santana's legs wrap around her as the blonde twirls around. Brittany's lips meet Santana's in a firm kiss before they both pull back. Their eyes meet briefly before Brittany sits her down, mumbling an awkward apology. Quinn just stands directly where she is, peering out in the crowd and Rachel rolls her eyes at Quinn and her need to always maintain her composure. The team runs off the field, behind the scenes and Rachel can't wait to see her girlfriend.

"Coach Sylvester, will you give the viewers at home an insight into your plan that ensured a victory today?"

"Well, Katy, let me tell you something."

"It's Kelly—"

"I had something that the other teams didn't have," Sue continues undeterred. "Home court advantage. You see Sue Sylvester knew that nationals were going to be held in New York. Why do you think I chose to coach at NYU?" She widens her stance while folding her arms across her chest. "I'm a genius."

Quinn laughs a little as she watches her coach's speech from a nearby screen. She quickly runs back to their locker room, wanting to shower and gather her things to leave.

Her shower is quick, lathering her body up with soap and quickly rinsing off as opposed to allowing the water to cascade over her body and loosen her muscles. There'll be time for that later. She opens her locker to gather her things, pulling on a pair of sweat pants and a beige tank top as Santana slinks up beside her, resting her shoulder against a nearby locker. "You did good, Q."

She runs the back of her hand over her forehead, partly to wipe away excess moisture from her shower but mostly to make sure she isn't feverish from the hot weather and exertion and hallucinating this situation. "Did Santana Lopez just compliment me?" She takes a swig of her water before shoving the bottle in her bag. "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah." She spins on her heel to walk back over to Brittany. "Just don't think for a second that I won't try out for head Cheerio again come fall."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Quinn challenges. She tugs her bag onto her shoulder and jogs out of the room. She runs through the crowd aimlessly before she's able to spot Kurt and Mercedes, not even bothering to look for Rachel's short stature. She makes a bee line toward them until Rachel finally comes into view. Suddenly finding herself with an arm full of tan limbs and dark hair, she staggers back before regaining her balance. "Congratulations!" Rachel yells loudly and Quinn swears she's just busted an ear drum. "You were amazing."

"Thank you, baby." She hugs Rachel back just as tightly, completely ignoring Kurt and Mercedes' presence. Her hands run through Rachel's dark hair, tangling in it as she tugs Rachel away from her shoulder.

Their lips crash together fiercely, Quinn's hand leaving Rachel's hair and sliding under her ass to help support her weight. She lets Rachel lead the kiss, panting into her mouth as a teasing tongue slides in.

"We're just gonna…meet you back on campus, Rach," Mercedes says awkwardly as Kurt purposefully evades the sight before him. Rachel doesn't even respond, too caught up in Quinn's soft lips, hot mouth, and damp hair to respond to them.

"Quinn…it's nice to see you again."

The stern voice makes Quinn's blood run cold. Her lips quickly part from Rachel's and she carefully lowers the brunette to her feet. "Hello, father," she says evenly as she turns around to face him. He stands proudly in a pair of black slacks, a collar shirt, and a tie. Her mother beside him in a floppy hat and a sun dress. "It's good so see you, Quinnie," she supplies in the awkward silence.

"You too." She reaches behind her to grab Rachel's hand and pulls the somewhat shaky brunette forward. "This is Rachel. My girlfriend."

Rachel offers a kind smile as she grips Quinn's hand tightly. Quinn winces behind her but doesn't say a word.

"I see." Russell's eyes are just as piercing as Quinn's in a way that alerts Rachel to who Quinn got her aloof and calculating side from. "It's nice to meet you, Rachel." His words don't sound sincere in the slightest but if he wants to play nice then Rachel can certainly play along. "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Fabray." She steps forward and offers her hand. It's quickly taken in his grip for a firm shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mrs. Fabray."

"Oh, call me Judy, sweetie." She reaches out to wrap Rachel in a loose hug that the brunette wasn't expecting but nevertheless returns. She's left wide eyed and feeling a little out of place.

"Quinn, a word." Russell smiles tightly at the group before taking a few steps back for privacy. Quinn swallows thickly with nerves but follows, her hand brushing reassuringly against Rachel's as she passes her.

They walk off and Rachel sighs as a little off the tension leaves the area. She looks over to Quinn to see her brow furrowed and her lip pressed tightly in a firm line. Her hands clench and unclench just like her jaw and Rachel really wants to know what's being said.

"What was that out there?" her father asks quietly as the two stand near each other for a private conversation.

Quinn shrugs. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't get coy with me," he snaps. "I came to watch you cheer because you promised, despite my reservations, that it was an actual sport. I did not come here to meet your…your—"

She throws her hands up in exasperation. "You can't even say the word. She's my girlfriend!"

"Keep your voice down," he hisses.

"Why? Because you don't want anyone to know I'm gay? News flash; this isn't Lima. I'm in New York and it's a lot more acceptable to be a lesbian here."

His jaw tightens at her words. "This place has changed you," he says gravely. "Did you just have me come here so you can embarrass me in front of this crowd of people?"

"No, father. I didn't ask you to come because I had this elaborate scheme planned to have everyone in the bleachers point and laugh at you as I got on the microphone and told everyone I'm gay. I invited you because Rachel wanted to meet you."

"Mind your manners, Quinn Fabray."

It's silent for a moment and Rachel's in awe as the two Fabrays meet in a battle of wills. Both of their arms are folded tightly across their chests, same posture, same scowls on their faces, same glares tossed back and forth. She briefly looks over to Judy who looks mildly worried but keeps her distance.

Her father's quiet for a moment, mouth twisted in contempt. "She does seem like a nice girl," he allows.

"She is. All she wanted to do was meet you so can you do me a favor and just have dinner with us? Then you can leave if you want, I won't stop you," she promises.

He considers the proposition for a moment, the business man in him coming out to play. "Judy," he says in a well-practiced, loving voice. "Let's take Quinn and her…girlfriend out to eat, shall we? We can celebrate our youngest daughter's victory."

Quinn grabs Rachel's hand and gives her a tight lipped smile. "We're going back to my place first, father. I have to change so I can look presentable."

He nods curtly in agreement and Quinn offers a grumbled goodbye as she pulls Rachel along with her.

* * *

"Okay, what was that?"

It's the first words uttered between them after the initial shock of Rachel meeting Quinn's parents. She was surprisingly silent in the car the entire drive back to campus and Quinn wasn't any better, not wanting to engage in any kind of conversation because of how on edge she'd felt.

"That was my family," she mumbles, stripping her sweats and tank top as she effortlessly slips her dress up her svelte body.

Rachel's momentarily caught off guard at how comfortable Quinn always seems to be in her own body. Undressing and dressing in front of Rachel without seemingly a care in the world. She clears her thoughts before looking back up to meet Quinn's eyes. "You know what I mean. You and your father. Have the two of you always been like that?"

"No." She rummages through her closet for her favorite pair of brown boots and sits beside Rachel to put them on. "I actually have a spine now. Back in high school I called him 'daddy' and cried the first time I told him I was gay."

Rachel looks at her with a bewildered expression. "You've told him more than once?"

She smiles wryly. "He didn't believe me the first three times."

"Oh…" She bites her lip to think of something to say as Quinn stands to grab her keys. "Your mother seems very nice."

Quinn nods noncommittally as they leave.

* * *

"Can I get you anything?"

The waitress stands patiently as Rachel and Quinn search through their menus. Quinn looks up just as her father's eyes subtly rake over the waitress approvingly and her mouth twists in disgust before lowering to her menu once more. "Four steaks," he says confidently.

Quinn closes her menu with a sigh, obviously not getting a say in what _she's_ going to have for dinner.

"And a strawberry daiquiri," Judy adds from the booth across from Rachel.

"Actually," Rachel pipes up quietly. "May I have a salad instead?" Quinn turns to her with a hushed tone. "You don't have to ask if you can have something. If you want the salad just–"

"You don't eat steak, dear?"

Quinn tenses beside Rachel. "No, sir, Mr. Fabray. I've been a vegan for as long as I can remember, so I don't consume any animal products."

"Pity," he says with a joking smile. "Quinn loves her steak."

Rachel smiles back. "Yes, I've recently become aware of that. She treated my fathers and I to dinner about a month ago and the first thing she asked was if the restaurant served steak."

"Fathers?" It was seemingly the only thing he picked up on out of Rachel's statement. She opens her mouth to reply but for the second time this evening she finds herself slightly uncomfortable and speechless.

"Yes, sir," Quinn supplies as if Rachel's silence was her tagging out and tagging Quinn in. "Leroy and Hiram Berry. They're Rachel's fathers and I met them a month ago."

"I see."

The tense moment is broken by the waitress returning to give Mrs. Fabray her strawberry daiquiri. Rachel's head lowers as she takes deep breaths. She's not used to feeling so much tension at family gatherings. Whenever she and her fathers are together it's always a loving and open atmosphere, fostering Rachel's blunt nature and paragraph form of speaking. But with the Fabrays there seems to be nothing but red tape. A lot of things you can't discuss openly or freely and every sentence is well calculated, abrupt and curt with no hint of apology if feelings are hurt.

Quinn's eyes soften as she takes in Rachel's slumped shoulders and concentrated face. She doesn't even have it in her to say 'I told you so' because meeting her parents isn't something she'd wish on anyone.

"So, Rachel. How long have you been seeing my daughter?"

Rachel's head perks up at Russell's question and Quinn is quick to answer for her, knowing by the intense look in her father's eyes that he's picked out who he thinks is the weaker of the two to single out. "Four months," Quinn says evenly.

"Hmm. And you think you're in love?"

"I _know _I am." Rachel can feel Quinn's leg shaking against her own under the table and she reaches out to grab the clenched fist on the blonde's thigh. She patiently pries Quinn's hand open before interlocking their fingers tightly.

Russell smirks at his youngest daughter and her tone of voice, knowing that it never took much to rile Quinn up. He turns his attention to Rachel, smiling at her. Rachel returns the smile politely and he turns back to Quinn. "What are your plans when you get out of college? Oh, that's right. You want your own business. A young go getter like your old man." He offers a rare, fond smile before turning to Rachel once more. "And what about you, young lady? What do you want to do?"

Rachel smiles widely at the question, never missing an opportunity to talk about the stage. "Well, right now I'm studying acting. But once I graduate school I want to do Broadway. I hope to be in a very successful play that showcases my acting as well as my singing abilities."

Judy smiles kindly at Rachel's ambition while Russell looks unconvinced. "But what if you don't make it?"

"She will," Quinn insists, leaning forward in her seat as if to attack. Rachel soothingly runs small circles along the back of Quinn's hand with the pad of her thumb.

Dinner comes and the four of them spend their time eating in tense silence. Judy orders three more strawberry daiquiris and insists that Rachel take one. Quinn smiles a little at the exchange. Rachel holding her hand up in protest but ultimately accepting the drink. It's one of those rare moments that Quinn realizes with a frown that she is in fact younger than Rachel. And as if reading her thoughts, Rachel turns to her with a teasing smirk as she hands Quinn the cherry like a mother would do her child when said child begs for a sip of the drink.

Quinn begrudgingly takes it and Rachel laughs as the blonde eats it with a good natured scowl on her face. Judy watches the exchange with a smile, never having seen her daughter look so happy and carefree with anyone, including herself and her husband.

As dinner draws to a close Quinn and Rachel slip out of the booth, followed by Judy and Russell after paying. They walk outside into the warm night and Russell speaks to the valet before walking over to the three women. "Rachel, would you mind if I steal your…girlfriend away for a brief chat?"

Rachel looks a little hesitant at the blonde's cloudy expression but nods her consent anyway. Quinn and Russell walk away and she watches worriedly as her girlfriend's posture seems to tense further with each step.

She turns to Quinn's mother to strike up a conversation in an attempt to put her mind at ease. "Thank you for dinner tonight, Mrs. Fabray. It was lovely. And a pleasure to meet you."

Judy smiles languidly at her and Rachel can see through her eyes that the alcohol is hard at work. "Oh, don't mention it dear. It was wonderful meeting you." She wraps an arm around Rachel's shoulder and looks down at her with sparkling eyes. They almost sparkle like Quinn's, Rachel thinks as her head tilts to the side. But Quinn's are brighter. "To tell you the truth dear, you're great for Quinnie. I…I've never seen her happier than when she's with you. And as a mother, all I've ever wanted is for my daughters to be happy. Happiness came for my oldest a little easier than it's come for Quinn. But it's so good to see her smiling."

A tear slides down Rachel's cheek at the sincerity of Judy's words. "I hope to always make her happy."

"You're good for her."

"She's good for _me_," Rachel says emotionally as Judy pulls her into a tight hug. "Take care of my baby for me," she whispers.

"As long as she'll have me, I'll be here for her," Rachel promises.

They hear shouting at the end of the block and Rachel pries herself from Judy's arms at the sound of Quinn's distressed voice. The two women walk swiftly down the block to see what the problem is.

"You won't take that tone of voice with me, young lady," Russell says gravely, his eyes cold. Rachel's breath hitches in her throat when she catches sight of the tears streaming down the blonde's face.

"Why can't you just accept me and Rachel? It's not like I'm some delinquent that spent her youth in and out of jail. I'm your daughter!" she says loudly as she approaches him. "Gay or straight I'm your daughter and you need to accept me for who I am! And accept the fact that I'm in love with her!"

"I accept that just fine," he tells her.

"You don't! You judge us, I know you do!"

Rachel takes a step forward and Judy's hand on her wrist stops her. She shakes her head minutely back and forth but Rachel will not be deterred. She walks over to Quinn and places a gentle hand on her shoulder. Quinn spins around with a wild look in her eyes that Rachel's never seen before.

"Get off of me!"

"Quinn, you need to calm down," she pleads quietly. Her hand is violently shaken off as Quinn steps back.

"Don't tell me what I need to do!" she shouts back, the weight of the evening, her father's subtle jabs at both her and Rachel finally getting to her.

"I'm not telling you what to do," Rachel says calmly. Quinn's looking at her like she's a complete stranger and yelling in her face when all she wants to do is help. "I just think you need to calm down. Everyone is speaking calmly and you're causing a scene by yelling the way you are."

She steps forward quickly until she's in Rachel's face, towering above her with angry and sorrowful eyes that Rachel hasn't seen since the night the blonde was drunk and thought that Rachel was leaving her. "I'm standing here trying to defend you, _us_, and all you can say is that I'm causing a scene? Am I embarrassing you? Hmm? Are you just as embarrassed by me as my father is?" She extends her arm quickly, one finger extended. Her lower lip trembles as more tears cascade down her face. "Then leave. If I'm that much of an embarrassment for all of you then just leave!"

Her wild eyes dart from Rachel to her mother then back around to her father to notice none of them moving. "Fine. Then I'll leave," she spits out before walking off down the sidewalk.

Rachel blinks rapidly as she watches the blonde's quick feet hit the pavement. She makes a move after her but Judy stops her. "Quinn says a lot of things she doesn't mean when she's upset," Judy says with past hurt haunting her eyes. "Just go home, Rachel. I'll send her to you once she's calmed down."

She nods numbly, unsure of how this whole situation has made her feel but _hurt _comes to mind rather quickly. Judy hugs her again. "She's changed. I know tonight may not seem like it but Quinn always regresses a little when forced back into old situations. That's why New York is good for her. We're not here." She inhales a shaky breath before pulling back. "Take care, Rachel."

She takes off in the direction of her daughter, not having to look far before finding her with her back against a brick wall beside the restaurant they were eating at, her arms folded defensively across her chest.

Judy walks over to her slowly. "Quinnie…"

She's surprised when the blonde practically leaps into her arms, tears of despair falling from her eyes. Judy rubs her back soothingly, cursing both her husband and her daughter for them both being stuck in their ways. She pulls back to look her in the face, heart breaking at the sight her beautiful daughter crying.

"Quinnie, you need to let this go, honey," her mother tells her softly, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Quinn's hands ball into fists at her sides. "I'm _not. _He's going to accept me for who I am—"

"_He's _not," she counters. "Quinn, do you know where Rachel is right now? She's gone."

Her head whips around and she squints her eyes down the block to find that her girlfriend is in fact missing. Her brow furrows as she looks to the road, wondering if she'd catch a glimpse of her. "She left right after you yelled at her and told her to leave."

Quinn runs a hand through her hair as her heart drops. She knows just how sensitive Rachel is and she's sure she hurt her feelings.

"You have a good person on your hands, Quinn. Not someone that I would have chosen for you," she reminds her. "But someone that I can tell loves you and makes you a better person. Don't chase her out of your life just because you're so busy chasing after your father's approval."

She sighs tiredly, nodding her head at her mother's words. It hurts that she can't have her father's approval. But she knows that losing Rachel would hurt more.

"You won't get it," Judy tells her sadly. "I know you want it, honey, but just let it go. You're not a child anymore, that's what you've been telling me since you were thirteen." She smiles a little at Quinn's small chuckle. "So be the adult you are and carry on with your life with the woman you love."

Judy wraps her in a tight hug, rubbing Quinn's back gently as the blonde cries silent tears on her shoulder. "I love you, mom," she says softly.

"I love you too, honey. I just want you to be happy."

"I am," she promises. "She makes me so happy."

She pulls back with a saucy grin aimed at Quinn. "Then who gives a damn what your father thinks?" she says with a wink. Quinn offers a weak laugh before hugging he mother once more. "Tell daddy I love him," she whispers. "And you know…my sister."

"I will. Tell Rachel that it was lovely meeting her, and to never be a stranger. And for goodness sakes, Quinn, apologize for your impolite behavior."

"Yes ma'am."

She offers to drive her parents to their hotel to spend more time with them before they leave in the morning, but Judy declines, wanting her to get to Rachel as fast as possible. They exchange goodbyes once more before Quinn's in her car to drive back to campus, her phone clutched tightly in her hand as she stops at a light.

_**Are you in your room?**_

Rachel doesn't reply for another ten minutes and she's left waiting on pins and needles as she winds her car through the semi-busy streets before stopping at another light.

_**Yes.**_

She sighs in relief that her girlfriend at least isn't roaming the streets this late at night, though that hardly seems Rachel's style. She texts her back.

_**Are you angry with me?**_

The reply is instant.

_**I'm more hurt than anything to be perfectly honest.**_

Quinn's heart clenches as she reads the next. Hurting Rachel is the one thing above all else that in turn hurts her as well. She reclines in the seat cushions as the light turns green. Then she pulls off, suspecting the silent treatment will greet her when she gets to Rachel's apartment.

* * *

Quinn trudges up the stairs to Rachel's apartment with less enthusiasm than usual. She's always happy to see her girlfriend and on the one hand, she wants to work out the tension between them so that they can move past it, but on the other hand, she's never been one to swallow her pride. She's never had to. Everyone in high school was practically eating out of her hands and with one glare to anyone that refuted her or the help of Santana, she practically won every argument she's ever had and never once had to apologize for it. But as she takes a deep breath to knock on Rachel's door, she makes a conscious decision to try her best to leave her pride at the threshold.

She raises her hand to knock again just as Rachel opens the door. Quinn's fist opens slowly, waving her now open palm nervously. Rachel's face is crestfallen but it immediately hardens as she walks away from the blonde. "Hello, Quinn." She walks to her bedroom and Quinn is hot on her heels, sliding beside her on the bed as Rachel cuddles under her blankets and continues to read her book.

She fidgets nervously with her hands. "Look, I'm sorry," she starts as she scoots closer to Rachel. "I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. It wasn't fair to you and you were only trying to help."

Rachel continues to read her book but Quinn can tell she isn't really concentrating. She gently pries the book from her hands and lays it on the night stand beside her. It's silent for a moment and Quinn doesn't say anything because she knows Rachel's gathering her thoughts for her own chance to speak.

"I'm sorry."

It was so soft that Quinn barely heard it. Her eyes narrow in confusion. "Rachel, you have nothing to be sorry for. I was the one that screamed in your face and told you to get lost."

"I'm the one that put you in that situation," Rachel says calmly. She meets Quinn's eyes for the first time since Quinn walked into her apartment and the remorse Quinn sees pouring out towards her is suffocating. It's bordering on pity and Quinn's not sure she take anyone, let alone Rachel, pitying her. "You've been telling me about your father for months now and I insisted on meeting him anyway. I'm sure this entire day has been stressful for you; nationals, your parents visiting, my meeting them, dinner, after dinner. None of this would have happened if I hadn't been so stubborn."

Quinn offers a lopsided smile. "It's only natural to want to meet your girlfriend's parents, Rach. I just wish mine weren't so difficult. And I turned the whole disaster into…" she searches for what to say, "an even _bigger _disaster by lashing out at everyone. Including you. So I'm sorry. And my mother was right. I'm not going to get his approval so I should just stop trying."

Rachel frowns sadly at Quinn's forlorn expression. She reaches out to cup the blonde's cheeks in her hands to bring them face to face. "Well I don't care what your father says or how he feels. _I _love you and _I_ approve of your love for me." She flashes a shy smile that Quinn returns before kissing those tempting lips she's been dying to kiss all night. "Besides, your mother was lovely."

Quinn rolls her eyes playfully. "The two of you even talk the same way. She said the same about you."

"It is a perfectly acceptable compliment to one's personality," Rachel scoffs. She folds her arms tightly against her chest and Quinn loosens them before placing Rachel's arms around her waist. She loops an arm around her girlfriend's shoulders and sinks further into the bed as Rachel's head rests against her shoulder.

"I love you," Rachel whispers against her skin as she places a kiss on the side of Quinn's neck. Quinn hums contentedly. "I love you too." Her right hand strokes through long, dark curls before tracing the side of Rachel's face. "We've been through a lot these past few months," she mumbles.

Rachel nods against her collarbone. "And yet you're still here," she says softly.

"We're still here," Quinn assures as she pulls Rachel to her tightly. She snuggles further into Quinn's warm body with a quiet sigh. "Honestly, I don't know how you put up with me."

"We put up with each other." She leans up to place a kiss to Quinn's lips. "Though I admit you are a hand full."

"Says the high maintenance one in the relationship."

Rachel scoffs lightly before pinching Quinn's sides. The blonde squirms before erupting in laughter. "Are you staying the night?" Rachel asks softly.

"If you want me to."

She smiles. "I want you to."

Quinn sinks further into Rachel's bed. She twirls a lock of dark hair around her fingers as Rachel presses chaste kisses everywhere her lips can reach. "You've never sang for me," Quinn whispers.

She hums lightly against her throat before pulling back to rest her head against Quinn's shoulder once more. "What would you like to hear?"

She shrugs. "Whatever comes to mind."

Rachel's silent for a moment. Her hands gently glide along Quinn's sides as a song comes to mind. Her lips part gently as the lyrics softly fall from her mouth.

_Hello world, hope you're listening_

_Forgive me if I'm young. For speaking out of turn._

_There's someone I've been missing._

_I think that they could be the better half of me._

Quinn's heart constricts at both the beauty of the lyrics and Rachel's voice. She's never heard her sing before and all she can think is that Rachel sounds like an angel. Her heart swells and she listens on with rapt attention.

_Come home. Come home._

'_Cause I've been waiting for you_

_For so long, for so long._

_And right now there's a war between the vanities_

_But all I see is you and me_

_The fight for you is all I've ever known._

_So come home…_

It's silent for a moment as Quinn gathers her bearings. Rachel hears quiet sniffles above her and she twists around to face the blonde. She's always thought that Quinn is most beautiful when she cries. She reaches up to gently wipe the single tear away. "I –is that how you see…us?" she asks quietly.

She nods with a warm smile. "This song always reminds me of you. Of _us. _Whenever we fight and I find myself at home and you're not here beside me I always hope that you'll find your way back."

"I'll always come back," Quinn whispers. She leans forward to press her lips firmly against Rachel's as if to seal the promise between them. They both recognize the weight of the promise. This isn't the first time that this conversation has been brought up and Quinn feels nervous and excited, scared and so in love.

"Let's go to bed." Rachel rises onto her knees to undress her girlfriend before they slide under her warm sheets. Quinn's arm slides around Rachel's waist and tugs her closer before her eyes slip shut. Safe and content to fall asleep at home.


	12. Chapter 12

**Title: **Someone I've Been Missing (The Better Half of Me)

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **NC-17

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU/Future fic. Quinn, a rising sophomore in college, meets Rachel for the first time just before the school term begins. An argument between them leaves Rachel wanting nothing more than to forget that Quinn even exists. But she soon finds out that she can't get rid of the determined blonde that easily.

A/N: I think next chapter will be the last. If I can squeeze everything into it. If not then there will probably two short chapters after this to wrap up the story.

* * *

Her back hits the wall with a thud, the wind knocked out of her lungs. Rachel quickly hikes her dress up to her waist and she assists, wanting to get straight to it. But she should know better. If anyone is better at teasing than Quinn Fabray, it's Rachel Berry. Her skin prickles as gentle fingers ghost along her ribs to cup heaving breasts. Her nipples harden instantly in excitement of what's to come.

Rachel gasps softly. It was fairly easy to tell halfway through the evening that the blonde hadn't been wearing a bra but to actually _feel _her taut nipples rubbing against the palm of her hand was something she hadn't quite braced herself for. "That play certainly put you in a mood," she rasps against the blonde's throat. She places wet, opened mouthed kisses along the smooth flesh as her fingers pinch and tug at her nipples.

Quinn squirms as best she can, attempting to push Rachel from her so she can just take over. She recognizes all the signs. Rachel's sudden flare up of dominance, how hoarse her voice is, if Quinn doesn't think of a strategy soon then she might very well be pinned to the wall, enduring the pleasurable torture for quite some time. A sharp pinch to her nipple sends ripples through her body as she cries out. Her back arches powerfully against Rachel and she responds in kind, roughly knocking Quinn back into the wall. She swallows thickly. "Apparently I'm not the only one in a mood."

Her lips quirk upwards before she leans down to blow cool air directly onto the stiff peak between her fingers. "Perhaps not." She envelops the bud into her hot mouth and Quinn instantly threads her fingers through thick, dark hair. Her knees buckle when even teeth graze her flesh and she slumps against the wall for support. "Can we get on with this?" she grits out. It's a game that over time they have come to enjoy. Rachel loves making love to Quinn more than anything but she was delightfully surprised when she discovered that Quinn occasionally liked it rough. Not only that but she seemingly wasn't one to beg either. Every once in a while Rachel likes to see how far her blonde is willing to go.

She swirls her tongue around Quinn's nipple and the languid moan that spills from her girlfriend's lips travels straight between her legs. She smirks. And Quinn must be able to feel it because she growls slightly before thrusting her hips into Rachel's. "Stop teasing." Rachel's eyes roll back. Her hand instantly flies south to circle her navel once, listening to the way Quinn's breath hitches. She slides lace panties down smooth legs, not even trying to resist the urge to put her lips on them. She kisses each calf once before rising and kissing the blonde's inner thighs. Quinn's hips rise to greet her as she feels hot bursts of air against her already over heated skin.

Rachel rises with an apologetic smile when she hears Quinn's whimper of protest. "I want to watch you," she whispers shyly.

Quinn's eyes soften at her words. She leans forward to kiss Rachel tenderly. It's the first kiss they've shared since Rachel all but shoved them into her apartment. Her tongue sneaks into Rachel's mouth and she moans softly. She slows down, her fingers simply content to gently run through Quinn's neatly trimmed hair. Her bottom lip is caught eagerly between Quinn's teeth, pulling a groan from her. Her hips buck into the blonde's and Quinn pulls away with a gasp.

Her lips graze against full parted ones once more. "Please, Rachel…" she whispers.

She moans lowly, Quinn's submission being a bigger turn on than she ever thought it would be. Her fingers trail down, slipping through wetness and she trusts two in up to the knuckle. Quinn's knees weaken again and Rachel is quick to react, wrapping her arm around her waist. "I love you."

Shock waves travel down her spine as Rachel picks up speed. She knows it's not going to take long. Her eyes squeeze shut because the image of Rachel's dark eyes boring into her own as she licks her lips and utters _those _words to her is too much for her to handle. A groan slithers from her throat. "I love you, too."

Quinn's inner muscles clench tighter around her, alerting Rachel to the blonde's impending orgasm. She slides a third finger in as she burrows into Quinn's neck. It's harder to maneuver in the tight confines of her girlfriend's sex and she growls at the feel of it all. "Come for me."

"Oh, _fuck_." Her head lolls to the side. Rachel's teeth sinking into her flesh only serving to spike her arousal. "Baby…"

"Right here, baby."

"I'm close."

"I know," she pants, thrusting harder. "I can feel it."

She breathes ragged breaths right against Rachel's ear. Goose bumps break out all over her skin. She whimpers. "_Rachel_."

"Quinn." She leans up to get a good look at the blonde. Tosseled hair framing her flushed cheeks and dilated pupils. Full, pouty lips parted and seeking air. "You're so beautiful." She thrusts in roughly before curling her fingers.

Her face pinches as her eyes slip shut. Shudders wrack her entire body and to anyone else it would look like she's frozen in pain for discomfort, but Rachel knows better. She waits as not even a second later Quinn's whole expression relaxes. Her body goes limp and Rachel supports her as best she can as they both lower to the floor. Quinn's lips eagerly seek out her own. Her kiss is returned with equal fervor before they part. Rachel places butterfly kisses against her face and anywhere she can reach.

Her breath returns to her slowly, eyes still shut as she reaches up for Rachel and tugs her closer. She buries her face into dark hair, inhaling the familiar scent to vanilla. "Love you."

Rachel smiles. "Love you too."

The feeling returns to her legs as she pulls back to see the unmasked need in Rachel's eyes. Quinn watches her girlfriend's dilated pupils and heaving chest, nipples straining through her top. She grabs her hand, quickly hauling her to the bedroom so she can repay the favor.

* * *

The faintest smile graces Quinn's features as she walks down the short hallway of her apartment and into the living room to see Santana in short-shorts, a tank top, pony tail and head band while doing pushups. Her eyes sweep over to the TV as a young, perky blonde instructs and guides a group of people behind her through an exercise routine. She walks further into the room, biting her lip to hold in laughter. "You look ridiculous."

Santana instantly spins around with wide eyes and Quinn can't hold it in much longer. She doubles over with peals of laughter as Santana turns eight shades of red. She rips the head band off her head, fumbling with an excuse as Quinn reclines back into the sofa cushions, staring her friend up and down. "Who are you and what have you done with my friend?"

"Suck it." It's her only defense as she sits down beside the blonde, grabbing the bottle of water she placed on the side table. She takes a long sip, her body instantly cooling as the water slides down her throat. "You won't think this is ridiculous when I'm team captain next year," she pants.

Quinn arches a fine eyebrow in her direction. "I don't care how much exercising you do, _Lopez_. You aren't going to beat me for that spot."

"Well _captain_ –oh wait. I can't call you that anymore because the season's over!"

"I'm still active captain until it's time to try out for the spot again and you know it."

"And when it's time to try out, I'll get it."

"You'll have to take it from me."

"Oh, please," she drawls. "Everyone knows I'm good at _taking_ things."

Quinn's nose scrunches up. "Yes, I'd have to agree that a rather _large _population of the school knows that very well."

"Watch it, Fabray," she warns.

She shrugs before turning away. She swipes the remote from a nearby table and begins flipping through channels.

Santana frowns. "What? No reply? You're not going to sit here and argue with me until we practically claw each other's eyes out?" Quinn shrugs again and Santana turns to face her more fully, suspiciously. "You've been in a good mood lately. Gotten some good pussy, have we?"

Her cheeks dust pink but she refuses to let Santana goad her into talking about her sex life with Rachel. "I am happy," she says simply. "How can I not be? My life is finally good."

"You're definitely not the same Q I grew up with."

"I guess I've changed," she murmurs. "Do you not like it?"

This time Santana shrugs before turning back to the TV. "It's cool, I guess. You're less crabby. Your girlfriend's still annoying though.

She smiles fondly. "Yeah."

"Gross."

She rolls her eyes before deciding on _iCarly _for them to watch. Santana likes to keep up the pretense that she only watches it because of Brittany but Quinn doesn't push the issue. Simply content to laugh inwardly because she knows how much her roommate secretly relates to the character 'Sam'.

"Heard about you and B."

"It's weird," she says around a smile. "Being…official."

Quinn nods. "Don't screw it up."

"I won't."

She leaves Santana to watch the show as she rummages through the kitchen. Huffing silently, she chucks an empty box of _Lucky Charms _cereal into the trashcan. "I told you about eating my food!"

Santana doesn't even respond, to wrapped up in watching her favorite show. Quinn settles on a ripe peach, rinsing it off before joining Santana on the couch again.

She clears her throat and tries to clear her thoughts as she discreetly side eyes Santana. She takes a bite of her fruit. "So…do you ever, you know…think about marriage? Like, being married…to Brittany?"

Santana turns to her slowly and Quinn steels her features as her friend's eyes wash over her face. She must not find anything there because Santana puts on her own poker face. She snorts indelicately. "No."

Quinn flashes her a knowing look. "Okay," she relents. "Maybe once…or twice."

"Or every day?" she quips.

"Watch it," she warns. "Why? You thinking about putting a ring on Rachel's hobbit fingers?"

She flushes, taking another bite of her peach to delay the inevitable. Santana's eyes widen as she points an accusatory finger in Quinn's direction. "Holy shit, you are!"

"Will you keep it down!" she hisses. "And I don't know…maybe?" She licks her lips nervously. "Not now but maybe later. After under grad but before grad school."

It's not an idea she's comfortable with discussing but she's been thinking about it for a while. Not necessarily marriage, but just being with Rachel. Quinn's never counted herself as the type to fall in love with someone. All of her relationships or hookups in the past only provided her with content. That's all she's ever felt and that's all she thought she'd ever feel while being with someone. But with Rachel she's not only content, she's _happy_. And she honestly doesn't see a problem with being with the same person that makes her happy for as long as she can.

Her initial thought wasn't something as grand as marriage. She never thought of herself marrying a woman. The only time she thought about marriage at all was in high school when she had a pregnancy scare after her first time having sex. She was late for her period and while visiting the doctor it was not her life up until that point but her very future that flashed before her eyes. Having a child at eighteen, attending Lima Community College and marrying her then boyfriend. The thought made her sick to her stomach and she could have cried, literally _did _cry when her physician told her that she was in fact not pregnant and the reason why she was late for her period was because stressing over feeling guilty about having sex had caused a hormone imbalance that threw off her menstrual cycle. She cried again a week later when it finally showed up.

"You sure you wanna get married?" Santana asks seriously, cutting through her thoughts. "Same midget for the rest of your life. Same pussy."

She grimaces. "You make it sound gross."

"Sometimes it will be gross."

"I want this," she says firmly.

Santana nods, averting her eyes to the TV screen once more. It makes Quinn nervous. Her eyes dart to the TV, the door –as she briefly contemplates leaving—before turning back to Santana. "Please say something."

She turns back to her friend and offers a rare, genuine smile. Santana's never been one for marriage, a rather unconventional soul, but she knows her friend is all about tradition. And Quinn typically knows what she wants. "Well, you certainly aren't going to get your father's blessing so I might as well give you mine."

Quinn slumps back against the couch, relieved. But the hardest part isn't over. Telling Rachel, proposing, that's the hardest part. How is she going to do that? How is she going to even have the grand wedding that she's sure her girlfriend is going to want if her father won't even support her enough to help pay for it? "I can't afford a ring."

Santana sighs loudly before reaching into her pocket. Quinn looks at her quizzically. Her hand reemerges and she opens her fist to reveal two quarters. "There's a bubble gum machine in a store nearby. I'm sure those rings can fit on Rachel's elven fingers."

She rolls her eyes before snatching the money from her friend. "What would I do without you?"

Santana turns back to the TV. "I don't know but if you don't shut up so I can watch the rest of this show the question's gonna be 'What would _I _do after I finish killing you?'"

* * *

It's her first class of the day and as the wipes the sleep out of her eyes, she can't help but smile at the reason why she didn't get much sleep. Her gaze sweeps to the left to look at the person occupying the chair beside her. She isn't fairing much better. "Rachel," she coos quietly towards her girlfriend. She's ignored as expected, Rachel jotting down her notes diligently. Let it be known that Quinn Fabray does not readily admit to her jealousy. But she can't help but wonder what a white erase board has that she doesn't. She shrugs, her eyes finding the clock in the classroom just as it strikes eleven.

"Alright, class," her professor calls loudly. "I'll see you all next week."

She quickly gathers her books, Rachel reaching out to grab her hand softly. They share a smile before walking toward the door. Four months strong and Rachel's smile still seems to make her heart melt.

"Quinn? May I have a word with you?"

She slows to a stop as she turns back to her professor. "Of course." Her hand falls from Rachel's and she sends her girlfriend an apologetic smile. One the Rachel kisses from her lips before backing towards the door.

"I suppose I'll see you later," she whispers.

"I suppose you shall."

The door closes silently behind her. Quinn turns back to her professor with a grave expression. "Is something the matter? Is it my grade because I got ninety-six percent on our last exam so I _know_—"

"Quinn," he interrupts quietly. "Will you please sit down?"

Worry sets in the furrow of her brow as she cautiously walks over to a row of desks and slides into a seat. Her fingers drum against the hard metal of the surface, creating the only noise in the deafening silence.

Her teacher shuffles quietly back towards his desk. She watches his every move as he walks back towards her with a manila envelope. She accepts it, eyeing it warily.

"You aren't one for trust, I see," he jokes lightly. Her tension eases slightly before she opens the envelope. A two page document is pulled from the confines with care. "Dear, Quinn Fabray, we are writing this letter to inform you—" her eyes widen comically, "—intern for our incorporation for a designated amount of time…"

Her eyes bulge out of their sockets. She looks back up at her professor. "Tell me you're joking."

"I am not."

"So this is real?"

"As real as your hair color."

She rolls her eyes, remembering one time last year when Puck had asked her if the carpet matched the drapes. "This is unbelievable," she whispers.

* * *

She finds herself walking down the long hallway to Mr. Schuester's office, this time with less anxiety. The last time she found herself in his office she was apologizing for wrongfully accusing him of sabotaging her career. But he had contacted her earlier in the day to set up an appointment that despite Rachel informing him how busy she was, he said couldn't wait.

The door is open when she arrives but she still finds herself knocking gingerly even as she steps inside. Mr. Schuester offers her a warm smile as she walks in to take a seat. "How are you, Rachel?"

"I'm lovely, Mr. Schuester," she replies sincerely. "I trust that you are as well."

He nods at her before opening a drawer at his desk. "I don't want to keep you for any longer than necessary because I know how busy you are. But I just wanted to show you this." He pulls out a flyer and hands it to her.

Her eyes scan the paper with mild curiosity and confusion. "I love _Spring Awakening_, Mr. Schuester. Any theater enthusiast would. But…why did you give me this?"

He grins widely. "Because the lead female has left the show." Rachel's eyes light up as he continues. "She was offered a job in California and took it. She's done the play for years and although she loves theater, I think she's had her fill of it for a while and wants to branch out."

By this point her heart is palpitating. She can barely hear him talking over the blood rushing to her ears. "Mr. Schuester, what are you saying?" she asks slowly.

"They're looking for a new Wendla. And…" he pauses for dramatic effect.

"Mr. Schuester, please."

"I dropped your name. I told them how phenomenal your voice is, what an amazing actress you are and even how quickly you can memorize lines and lyrics."

She stops breathing. She stares at Mr. Schuester with wide eyes because this is just too good to be true. "It's true," he says as if reading her thoughts. He gestures toward the flyer. "Call that number. Tell them that you're Rachel Berry and that William Schuester referred you. Set up an audition and knock their socks off."

Her eyes mist over. She once thought that she needed whatever Mr. Schuester lacked to get to Broadway and this was it. "I've never had anyone in my corner, Rachel. It's hard to make it alone. So I'm going to be for you what no one was for me. A way in."

She nods in understanding, rising from her seat. "Thank you so much, Mr. Schuester. This means the world to me."

"You're welcome. See? Not trying to ruin your career after all," he jokes. Rachel bites her lip sheepishly at how foolish she'd been in having thought that.

"No, you're not," she whispers. "And thank you again. Really."

They say their goodbyes as Rachel leaves his office with barely contained excitement, wanting to see Quinn as soon as possible.

* * *

Quinn bursts through the door to her apartment, her dress swooshing from side to side as she walks straight to her room.

"Hold on!"

She spins on her heel quickly to face Santana. She's on the couch with a bag of potato chips by her side. Quinn cocks her head to the side with impatient curiosity as she waits for what her friend has to say.

"We need more groceries."

She scowls at Santana's laziness before spinning around to go to her room. "Then buy some."

"You always buy groceries!"

"I'm busy!"

"Well then do it when you're not!"

Her door slams close with a thud as she chooses to ignore Santana. She's excited about her internship and nothing is going to ruin that. Grabbing her phone and the piece of paper out of her bag, she dials the number to the business office with shaky fingers.

"Hello. Yes. This is Quinn Fabray. How are you?" She tries not to roll her eyes at the small talk she's making, knowing impeccable manners will get her everywhere. "May I please speak to Tom Reynolds? Yes, I'll hold."

She nervously paces the room, biting her lip as she listens to the array of elevator music that's played while she's on hold. Nothing but experience can prepare her for the field of business once she graduates and Quinn's been jumping at any and all chances to work in the field. This is the internship that past successful business men and woman entered before they made it and later built their own business. This internship could very well place her in a long line of success that students that graduated from NYU have incurred.

She wipes her sweaty palms on her dress as a deep voice travels through the speaker of the phone. "Hello, Mr. Reynolds. I'm Quinn Fabray. I received a letter informing me of a possible internship over the summer." She bites her lip as she continues to pace back and forth. He recognizes her name –or last name, rather—right away. She's pensive as he starts to list off her accomplishments so far in college and her stellar grade point average.

He's silent for a moment and Quinn strains her ears to hear the ruffling of papers in the background. "Yes. Yes, Fabray." Her lips turn down into a frown. "He's my father." Her shoulders slump. "Excuse me? A recommendation? From him? Why?"

He continues to talk but Quinn tunes in and out, already picturing how her conversation with her father is going to go. "Yes, I understand. Goodbye." She hands up with a little more force than necessary, barely resisting the urge to throw her phone against the wall. The last time she even had a conversation with her father was a little over a month ago when Rachel had first met the Fabray clan. There was shouting, insulting words, and even tears, most of them coming from Quinn. But she couldn't help it. Or at least that's how she rationalized it. She protects what she values in her life and she couldn't tolerate her father attacking the validity of her relationship with Rachel.

Her eyes snap up to see the object of her affection silently closing her bedroom door behind her. "I knocked three times but you didn't answer."

She offers a weak smile. "Sorry." She quickly crosses the room to Rachel in just a few strides. A small smirk plays across Rachel's lips as Quinn pins her to the door. Their lips meet swiftly, the wind rushing from her lungs as Quinn's svelte frame presses tightly against her own.

"I have good news," she breathes as Quinn places kisses to the tender skin of her neck. Her hands tangle in blonde locks as she runs her fingers along her scalp soothingly. A soft purring sound is her reward and she giggles quietly, enjoying how adorable Quinn can be sometimes.

"Me too. Well, sort of." Her lips meet the shell of Rachel's ear. "You first." Rachel shivers against the puff of warm air blown into her ear as Quinn sucks gently on her ear lobe.

She tugs on Quinn's hair until the blonde gets the point. Reluctantly, she pulls away. Grabbing her hand, she leads Rachel to her bed where the two sit. Rachel's practically vibrating with excitement as she bounces happily atop the blonde's bed. "Well?" Quinn says with a small laugh. "Are you going to tell me or what?"

"I have an audition!" She flashes her girlfriend a brilliant smile. "The wonderful, talented lead for _Spring Awakening_ has stepped down from her position to star in a television production. Mr. Schuester recommended me for the part and now I have an audition."

"That's really great, baby." Her arms wrap around Rachel in a supportive hug, one she wholeheartedly returns. "You're going to blow them away, I know you will. That part is as good as yours." She pulls back quickly with that same enthusiastic bounce and wide smile that has Quinn unconsciously tilting her head, charmed. "Thank you. Now, tell me your good news."

Her leg begins to shake and Rachel reaches out to place a calm hand on her knee. Quinn looks up at her. "I got an internship at one of the most prestigious companies for the summer."

Rachel's eyes widen as she tackles the blonde into a hug. Quinn topples back onto her black bed sheets, her arms full of a very happy Rachel Berry. "I'm so proud of you!" Quinn sputters out laughter as Rachel kisses her cheeks, her eyelids, anywhere she can reach. Her hair ghosts along Quinn's arms leaving goose bumps. She presses a firm kiss to the blonde's lips before pulling back to hover above her with a warm smile.

"This is great," she gushes. "Give us one, two years tops and we'll be America's new power couple. Rachel Berry and her gorgeous girlfriend, Quinn Fabray to the Grammy's, Tony's, Oscar's. Quinn Fabray and her wonderful, charming, talented girlfriend, Rachel Berry," Quinn rolls her eyes at all of the compliments her girlfriend attributes to herself, "to visit the president. We'll be wonderful."

Her conversation with Santana flits through her mind briefly as Rachel maps out the next few years of their lives together. She stomps the thought down. With all of the overwhelming news being tossed back and forth between them, now isn't the time. She licks her lips, her eyes meeting sparkling brown. The gleam she sees in those dark depths both excites and terrifies her. "I would love that. But…there's a problem."

Her lips turn down into a pout that Quinn uses all of her self-control not to kiss away. "What could possibly go wrong?"

"I need a recommendation."

"Quinn, all of your professors love you. And correct me if I'm wrong but you're number one in your class. You also know quite a bit about the business management field. A recommendation should not be hard to come by in the slightest."

She sighs before sitting up, Rachel rising with her until she's straddling the blonde's thighs. Quinn takes a deep breath, resting back on her hands. "If it was a recommendation from a professor then I wouldn't have even brought this to your attention. But I don't need one from them. I need one from someone else."

Worry starts to rise in her as hazel eyes dart from her own to the plush bedspread they're resting on. Rachel gently cups the blonde's cheeks, lifting her head until they're face to face, eye level. "Then who do you need the recommendation from?"

Her shoulders slump forward. "I need one from my father. He's highly respected and is said to have a good eye for talent. The only interns they hire are ones he personally recommends. My last name isn't even enough if he has no say behind it."

Rachel's brow furrows in concentration. She prides herself on not only being multitalented, multitasking, and having perfect pitch. She's also a problem solver. But this one has her stumped. "Honestly, Quinn, I think you're going to have to call him."

"No." She pulls away as if the very idea is an insult.

Rachel sighs. "How else do you plan on securing this internship for the summer? This is a very reputable business. I love you, but there are plenty of other young men and women vying for this highly respected position that are just as capable as you are. Don't throw it away because of your pride, Quinn."

Her face scrunches up as she extricates herself from Rachel. They sit side by side on the bed, Quinn running a hand through her hair in frustration.

"Do you want this job?"

"Of course I do," she whispers.

Rachel turns to look at her. She reaches behind Quinn to grab her cell phone. "Then you need to swallow your pride and call your father." She places the phone in Quinn's hand with a reassuring smile.

Her jaw clenches. She unlocks her phone before scrolling through her contacts and landing on Russell's number. "You don't understand," she tries.

"No, I don't," Rachel agrees quietly. "I can't even begin to fathom what it was like for you growing up. But if you want something, then you shouldn't allow anything to stand in your way."

She takes a deep breath before looking down at her phone once more. Groveling and begging wasn't something she's ever had to do. If she wanted something she always got it based on either her name, her ability to intimidate, or her own merit alone. She sighs quietly, knowing none of those things will secure this internship for the summer.

Rachel gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze as she finally presses the 'dial' button. She stands from her seat, pacing back and forth in front of her bed. Her eyes flit to Rachel's once more before clearing her throat.

"Hi, father. How are you today?"

Rachel watches her intently, biting her lip at the deep furrow in Quinn's brow. "Yes, well I thought I'd ask," she says quietly. "I assume you know why I'm calling then?"

She rubs the back of her neck, the sound of her father's condescending tone placing her right back in high school again. "Yes. I need a recommendation and you know it."

"Quinn," she hisses. The blonde in question turns to her slowly with wide eyes. "Be nice."

She scowls faintly before she continues pacing. "May I have a recommendation? I won't be able to work at the corporation over the summer if I don't get one from you."

Her eyes scan her room before landing on Rachel. Their eyes meet in a mutual understanding. Rachel's ambition and determination is something Quinn has come to admire over the course of their relationship. When Rachel wants something, whether it is a lead in a play, a solo in choir, or a particular pair of patent leather shoes that Quinn remembers her bartering with the cashier in the mall to obtain them, she gets it. And on the rare occasion when she doesn't get what she's strived for then it isn't because of a lack of effort. She's never told Rachel before but there are parts of her that wants to be just like the brunette. "I'll do anything," she whispers into the phone.

Rachel smiles, proud of the blonde and her ability to not only humble herself but her willingness to stretch beyond her comfort for something that's important to her. She blushes, remembering the first time she ever witnessed Quinn doing so was when the blonde confessed her love in front of her fathers.

"I can't do that," she says lowly.

She turns away from Rachel, her eyes darting to the brunette briefly before she fully turns around. Her fist clenches at her side. "That's out of the question. I –I won't do that."

Rachel resists the urge to lift from the bed and cross the room to Quinn's side. She's not sure what's going on but Quinn keeps speaking in hushed tones and every so often she'll glance in Rachel's direction before turning back around. She nervously fidgets with the hem of her plaid skirt as she strains her ears in an attempt to pick up on the conversation.

"Look, can't you just do this for me?" Her eyes pinch in frustration. "You'll see what you can do? What does that even mean?" His voice calms into a familiar sugary sweet voice. It's a strategy that Quinn knows all too well. Rile your enemy up to the point that they're practically hysterical then talk to them in a calming town so that their sudden anger seems unjustifiable. She forces deep breaths through her nose in an attempt to calm down. "Well, I won't do it but I hope that as a father, _my _father, you'll find it in your heart to write your daughter a recommendation so that she can follow in your footsteps of success. Have a lovely evening."

The call disconnects and Quinn stares at the blank screen, her expression just as empty. She jumps when a warm hand touches her shoulder. "What did he say you had to do for him?"

She pulls away slowly as to not hurt Rachel's feelings before walking over to her bed. "Nothing important or worth mentioning." She lays back, her head sinking into the pillows. Her fingers pinch the bridge of her nose as her head begins to throb. The bed dips and her eyes slip shut as Rachel lies on her side to face her. She tentatively reaches out to touching Quinn's shoulder, sighing quietly when the blonde doesn't pull away. "Quinn, please tell me."

Her eyes open as she turns to Rachel. "He said that if I left you then he would write the recommendation."

She takes her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes drop to the bed and Quinn can instantly tell she's hurt. "He really said that to you?"

She hesitates. "Not in so many words."

"I want to know," she mutters. "Tell me what he said."

"Rachel—"

"Just tell me."

"He…he said that he doesn't see your career progressing the way you do. That my being with you will ultimately hinder me and that I should leave you."

It's silent for a moment as Rachel allows the words to sink in. Her chest heaves, her bangs covering her face and obstructing Quinn's view of her eyes. Her hand reaches out to grasp the one on her shoulder. She slowly intertwines their fingers. Rachel inhales shakily. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, her eyes find Quinn's. Her lower lip trembles as the blonde lifts onto her elbow to bring them face to face. "I love you, Rachel. And I don't give a damn what my father says, you _will_ be successful. You're smart, beautiful, talented—"

"But so are so many others!" she cries. "What makes me so special?"

Quinn smiles tenderly at her hopeless expression. "You're a star. Rachel Berry is a star that doesn't let anyone –especially a washed up old man that doesn't know a thing about talent— discourage her from her dreams. Where's that Rachel? Hmm? Where'd she go?"

"He wants you to leave me."

"What do you want?"

"I just want to be with you," she whispers quietly.

Quinn leans forward to kiss her softly. "Well that's good because that's what I've wanted since August." She lifts from the bed to walk to her door, deciding to leave her problems for another day. She turns to face Rachel. "So Santana ate all of our food. I was thinking you could grocery shop with me. She only buys junk food."

Her face brightens as she hops from the bed to follow Quinn. "Have you prepared a list of items you want to purchase from the store?"

"Umm, no but—"

"Quinn," she scolds, "you should always have a list."

They walk into the living room to find Santana in the same spot she was before. "Were you listening to us?" Her tone sounds more accusing than curious because she knows how nosy her friend can be.

Santana rolls her eyes. "It was like a _Lifetime _movie with you two. Seriously, you guys, get your shit straight."

"We're trying," she calls over her shoulder as they walks towards the door.

"If you're going grocery shopping could you pick me up some Hot Cheetos?"

The door to Santana's room opens and Rachel and Quinn spin around to find Brittany bounding out of the room in nothing but a towel. "Ooh, Quinn, can you get some chocolate sauce? We're out."

Quinn raises an eyebrow, wondering when the other blonde even came over. "What happened to the brand new, never been touched bottle that was in there last night?"

"We kind of used it."

Santana smirks as she leans over the couch. "B, your hair's dripping water everywhere."

"Oh, sorry." She deftly unties the knot in the front of her towel before removing it from her nude body to wrap around her hair. "Better?"

Rachel's eyes widen comically as Quinn places her hand over them. "Much better," Santana replies with a snicker. Quinn quickly navigates a now blind Rachel out of her apartment before slamming the door shut.

* * *

It isn't until two weeks later that Quinn finally gathers courage to broach the subject of a future with Rachel. Well, sort of.

Rachel stretches out on her queen sized bed as best she can, long, pale limbs somewhat impeding the process. She huffs quietly as she tries to find a better position, missing the evil grin on her girlfriend's face. "Will you please scoot over?"

"I'm comfortable," Quinn mumbles. She tosses her books to the floor and flops over on her stomach, burying her face into Rachel's sheets. She's stalling. She's kind of nervous and has to school her features because she knows if Rachel looks at her right this second she'd give everything away.

"Yes, well, that makes one of us." Her hands dart out to Quinn's side in an attempt to push the blonde over. She's unsuccessful. For as small and lithe as Quinn looks, looks can be deceiving. Rachel quickly learned through their love making, and Quinn's affinity to take her on any vertical hard surface she can find, that despite her slight weight, Quinn is very strong. Her extremely feminine form houses very defined muscles. "Quinn," she whines.

The smile on her face broadens as she rolls over on her side to face Rachel. A well-practiced pout is set in place and Quinn doesn't even resist the urge to lean up and kiss it away. She pulls back to look at her. "Hi, beautiful."

Rachel beams down at her. She scoots down on the bed and closer to Quinn, snuggling into her. She breathes a quiet sigh as a protective arm is draped around her middle. She's been having mini freak outs over the past few weeks –finding out about her audition, Quinn's father, receiving her lines to memorize for the audition—it finally feels good to be able to have this moment alone with the blonde without a worry in the world. Except one. "Do you think I'll do well in my audition?"

Quinn's arm tightens around her. "You're a great actress, Rachel. And you have amazing stage presence. I know you'll do wonderful."

She licks her lips nervously. "And if I don't get the part?" She leaves out the unspoken undertone of her question. _What if your father is right?_

Quinn still picks up on the insecurity in the sight quiver of her voice. "I won't love you any less. You won't be any less talented. It'll just be a door that's closed in your life to allow another door to open."

Her heart soars at the blonde's words. Not only did Quinn have the utmost confidence in her, but even if she failed Quinn promised to still love her and be there for her. "Thank you," she whispers. Rachel leans up to kiss her again, lingering. "This will never get old for me." She pulls back with a smile, her fingers curling in Quinn's hair.

"Me either," she breathes. Her heart begins to pound in her chest and she gets the feeling Rachel hears it because her eyes dart from her chest to her face in confusion. She doesn't want to jump the gun but the words are practically crawling out of her throat and she has to swallow to keep them at bay.

"Something the matter?" she asks. She likes to think that she's come to know Quinn better than just about anyone by now. Even Santana because although Rachel can admit the blonde's roommate has known her longer, she doesn't know her body as intimately as Rachel does.

She shakes her head. "No."

"Quinn, your heart is racing," she murmurs. "What's wrong? Is it your father again?"

She's getting worried and that's something Quinn doesn't want. Rachel's apartment has always been like a bubble of sorts for them. No matter what happens in the outside world, they could always come to her place and be at peace. She clears her throat. "How do you see your future?" There. It's out. And she mentally pats herself on the back for how neutral the question sounds.

Rachel's eyes widen just a fraction at the abrupt change of subject. Her eyes sweep over to meet Quinn's. There's so much love and trust in those hazel eyes that she's become so familiar with over the past several months. But there's something else. A longing that she doesn't quite understand but it tugs at her heart and creates a churning in her stomach she's never felt before. She inhales deeply. "Well, I will graduate –valedictorian, of course. I will deliver a heartfelt speech that will move the audience to tears followed by applause." She bites her lip at the intensity of the blonde's gaze, her steeled features not allowing any ounce of emotion show. It always unnerves Rachel when she gets like that but she soldiers on. "If I get the part then I'll be performing to sold out seats every night. Coming home to you afterwards…maybe in our new apartment."

Quinn's mouth falls open at the last bit of Rachel's words.

Rachel ducks her head sheepishly, finding interest in her fingers playing in Quinn's hair. "I –if I don't get the part then I'll dutifully wait tables at a quaint, family owned restaurant so that I will have had a rough start to my inevitable fame by the time my _E! True Hollywood Story _is televised."

She has to roll her eyes a little at that. Of course Rachel would plan her success or failure –which only leads to more success—out down to the last detail.

"And after a long, exhausting –yet fulfilling day of standing on my feet, delivering well written lines in the most compelling way I know how, I'll come home to my beautiful, blonde girlfriend who will prepare vegan dinners for me." She flashes the blonde a bright smile.

Her heart melts. She's always secretly loved how verbose her girlfriend can be, even though most of the time she puts those powers to use by nagging Quinn or whining about something. She wraps her arms around Rachel tightly. "You're kind of amazing."

She scoffs. "Only kind of?"

"Really amazing."

Rachel nods against her shoulder. "We will be equally successful together and apart. You will someday own your own business and I will someday own all of the media."

"You're so modest," she replies sarcastically. She pulls back, tucking a lock of hair behind Rachel's ear before cupping the side of her cheek. She runs her fingers along the soft flesh and dark eyes get lost behind hooded eyelids. Leaning forward, she gently takes Rachel's bottom lip between her own. They kiss languidly, Quinn's tongue dipping into Rachel's mouth.

Rachel pulls back with flushed cheeks. "I take it you rather like my idea."

"I rather do," she whispers. She leans up to hover over Rachel. "Let me show you just how much I like your idea."


	13. Chapter 13

**Title: **Someone I've Been Missing (The Better Half of Me)

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU/Future fic. Quinn, a rising sophomore in college, meets Rachel for the first time just before the school term begins. An argument between them leaves Rachel wanting nothing more than to forget that Quinn even exists. But she soon finds out that she can't get rid of the determined blonde that easily.

**A/N: **_Come Home _by One Republic was playing as I was putting the final touches on this chapter and I thought it was oddly fitting. This chapter is longer than any of the others as an apology for taking so long to update. I want to thank everyone for being patient and reading and reviewing while on this little fic journey with me! Especially the LJ people that came to read it over here when LJ was giving me issues. All of you guys are awesome people and I appreciate the love. :)

* * *

"Alright, cut!"

"You aren't a real director, you know." Kurt pushes a side bang out of his eyes to glare at Mercedes across the room. She sits atop Rachel's bed, a plate of tater tots in her hand and a scowl on her face. "Don't get all up in my grill just because your acting is whack."

"You're hardly a qualified judge of talent."

"Rachel delivered her lines very well."

A proud smile touches Rachel's lips. "Kurt, I'll have to disagree. I think Mercedes has a real knack for judging talent."

"_You_ would." He crosses his arms before walking swiftly towards Rachel's bed, back facing Mercedes as he sits down and delicately crosses his legs. She slides her plate of food in his direction as a peace offering and he begrudgingly accepts, turning around.

"How many more days until your audition, Rachel?" Mercedes asks.

"Approximately five days, eight hours, and twenty-three minutes." Her hands begin to fidget as she walks over to her desk to take a seat. "Thank you both for rehearsing with me." She smiles sheepishly. "I was kind of driving Quinn crazy every time I critiqued her performance when she ran lines with me."

Mercedes' eyes find the floor and Kurt chokes on a tater tot at the blonde's name. "Don't mention it," he croaks.

Rachel eyes them suspiciously. "Is everything alright? You guys were really warming up to Quinn and after the Cheerios' nationals; the three of you were even cordial with each other. Did something happen?"

Mercedes' continues to find interest in the colors of Rachel's bedroom walls as Kurt rolls up his sleeve to glance at his watch. His palm slaps against his cheek. "Well would you look at the time! Mercedes and I are late for a mani-pedi at the spa. Ready to go, Cedes?"

"Very."

The two quickly hop to their feet, Mercedes disposing the paper plate into the trashcan while they walk to the door.

"Wait just a minute," Rachel calls hotly behind them. "The two of you established freshman year that the only day you would go to the spa for manicures and pedicures would be on Saturdays because not only are Saturdays meant for relaxation but Mercedes would get to show off her new hand and feet artwork in church on Sunday. And today is Wednesday." Her arms cross over her chest in victory as her two friends lose steam and come to a stop. "What is going on between the two of you and Quinn? Because if the two of you have built up a sudden animosity toward her then I am going to have to ask that the two of you either bury it or address it with her so that we can all get past it. All of you are important to me and my life and I cannot have you all fighting o –or wishing any form of ill will toward the other—"

"Rachel!" Kurt yells suddenly. "Please, just…stop."

"We don't hate her," Mercedes supplies. "She's actually not that bad once she drops the whole bitchy, white girl act."

"Then I don't understand." She walks further into the living room where Kurt and Mercedes are. "If you don't hate her then why did you guys act so weirdly when I said her name? And why did you decide you have to leave all of a sudden?"

They both shuffle awkwardly. "We can't tell you."

"It's supposed to be a secret."

Rachel's eyes narrow. "What is the secret?"

Kurt huffs before rolling his eyes. "We can't tell you," he reiterates.

She continues, undeterred. "Well then _who _told you to keep the secret?"

Kurt nearly pulls his hair out as Mercedes fights to keep her mouth closed. He glances over to find her practically hopping from foot to foot with unease. "Don't do it, girl. You know she said we were supposed to keep it a secret."

"Keep _what _a secret?" Rachel asks again in irritation.

"We can't tell you!"

"Well, I suggest you do."

Mercedes' hands find her hips as Kurt cocks his to the side. "And if we don't?"

"Then I'll un-invite you to my audition. And I know the two of you want to go to meet my potential future co-star, Jesse St. James. Kurt, because you've had a monster crush on him since I showed you one of his head shots."

"He's flawless…" Kurt breathes.

"And Mercedes because I know you've been dying to know what hair care products he uses."

"His hair is flawless…" she whispers.

Rachel nods. "And you get to see it—touch it even if you just tell me the secret."

Mercedes lightly runs her fingers through her hair, eyeing the strands between her fingers. She bites her lip. "Okay, I'll tell you."

Kurt whirls around to face her. She grabs her arm. "We need privacy." The two trot over to the other side of the room and Rachel waits on pins and needles as the two turn their backs to her. She clasps her hands tightly behind her back in an attempt to hide her anxiety while her two friends deliberate. Finally, after what feels like forever, they walk back over to join her. "Okay, we'll tell you," Kurt says slowly. "But on one condition."

"Name it."

"You cannot under any circumstances tell Quinn we told you."

Her eyes widen. "Quinn?"

"Oh shit," Mercedes mutters.

"Well she was going to find out anyway!" Kurt heatedly defends.

"Whatever. Just tell her so I can get my fancy hair gel by next week."

"Will someone please just tell me?"

"Easy there, Barbra," he soothes, eyeing her warily. "It's just that…well. Quinn needed us to help her with something. Something important."

"Oh for the love of—she's going to propose to you and wanted us to assist with dinner preparations, arrangements for after dinner—"

"What size your finger is," Kurt chimes in.

"Is that –is that why you promised to buy me a ten karat golden ring at Zales in the mall and then flaked at the last second because you looked in your purse and 'didn't have enough money'?"

"It's a man bag! And yes. I wanted the jeweler to size you so that we could tell Quinn but…"

"But?" she hedges. Really, this whole game was getting really old really fast for her. "But what?"

"You're starting to act like her," Mercedes muses.

She tries to suppress a smile at the thought of her and Quinn spending so much time together that their personalities were starting to rub off on each other. "Forgive me for my outburst."

"Moving on. She recently informed us that there would be no way that she'd be able to pay for an engagement ring. And I told her that she had better try because there's no way in hell Rachel Berry would stand for being engaged to someone without there being a ring."

"Y –you said that to her?"

Kurt takes a step back at the crazed look in her eye. "Yes…?"

Mercedes shakes her head sadly. "Wrong move, girlfriend."

His eyes flit to hers before zeroing in on Rachel as she walks toward him. "How could you do that? Now she'll never propose!"

"I'm sorry! We've all been talking about marriage since we were first years. And we all agreed that as bonafide divas we should never have to settle for rings less than three thousand dollars!"

He backs up into a wall, Rachel standing directly in front of him and managing to look intimidating despite her short stature. Perhaps Quinn was rubbing off on her after all. 'In more ways than one' as the blonde would say.

She shakes her head, remembering how the three of them linked pinkies freshman year then proceeded to sing songs—Mercedes singing a Whitney song, Kurt doing a rendition of Patti Lupone and Rachel, of course, choosing to pay tribute to none other than Barbra Streisand—to solidify their promise to each other.

"While I agree that I did make that promise, that was years ago. I was young and dare I say, foolish. A ring does not and should not matter when dealing with matters of the heart. Love is the only thing that matters and I love Quinn. I don't want her to be discouraged simply because she doesn't have the money to put a ring on my finger."

"Well, she is," Mercedes quips.

Her head lowers as she begins to brainstorm. Her fingers begin to snap rapidly as she walks around the room, her ideas flying to her. "I need pens and paper," she mutters over and over again. She finally gets her hand on a sheet of paper as Kurt tosses a pen in her direction. She quickly writes down an assorted list, tongue poking out between her lips in concentration.

Kurt's eyes find Mercedes' as the two slowly make their way to Rachel's door.

"I've got it!"

She spins on her heel and power walks around a coffee table to stand directly in front of her two friends. They both recognize and fear the crazed look in her eye as she hands them the piece of paper. They read it carefully. "We don't understand, Rach."

"I want you to act like everything is normal. Don't tell Quinn you told me and just for now, go along with any and everything she says. I'll take care of the rest. I'll certainly call the two of you if and when I need assistance."

Both of their mouths open to protest but she quickly snatches the list back and shoves them out of the door before closing it behind them. She slumps against the cool wood before sliding down to the floor, collecting her jumbled thoughts.

The first thought that comes to mind is '_holy shit!_' She mentally chastises herself for the swear before she tries to wrap her mind around an even bigger concept.

Quinn wants to marry her.

It seems like a simple concept, no compound words, it isn't a run on sentence, no dashes or commas that would create necessary pauses for breath; it's just _there_. But it means so much to Rachel. Her mouth runs dry and she's pretty sure her heart is beating loudly enough to burst an ear drum but the wide smile that threatens to split her face, the fluttering in the pit of her stomach makes it all worth it.

"Quinn wants to marry me," she whispers reverently. She takes another look at the list and hops from the floor, deciding to get to work.

* * *

She's been waiting on a phone call of sorts for two weeks now. In her father's words he would 'see what he could do' and Quinn had no choice but to hang on to those words until the threads of the rope snapped and she was dropped back down to reality.

Her head sinks into her hands as thoughts of her future plague her mind. She and Rachel both polish off another year of college while living together. Rachel hopefully balancing a Broadway career as well as her senior year at NYU while Quinn hopefully finishes her summer internship and returns to NYU to complete her junior year, thus becoming a senior. Their engagement serving as the icing on a very delicious cake. Quinn licks her lips, practically tasting how amazing her future can be if everything falls into place.

"And if it doesn't, that's okay too," she whispers to herself. "As long as she's happy and as long as I'm happy."

"It's not good to talk to yourself."

Her heart nearly leaps out of her chest as Santana comes into view. "Stop _doing _that!" she grits out.

Santana gives her a look. "Chill." She flashes two tickets in front of Quinn's face. "Look at what I have."

She reaches out to take the tickets. "What are these?"

"Oh, don't play dumb. Those are tickets to Florida. It'll be just like last year."

"I can't…pay for these. Unless I ask my father and with everything that's happened this year I don't think—"

"Once again, chill, Q. I got this. My parents paid for you since they like you and because your father's a douche."

She smiles apologetically at Santana's thoughtfulness. "Thank you. And thank your parents for me, but I can't go. I'm doing the internship, remember?"

"Your father wrote you a recommendation?" she asks dubiously.

She falters. "No, but—"

Santana throws her hands up. Why is this even a conversation? "Then come on! You, me, warm weather, hot women."

Quinn arches an eyebrow. "That we're no longer able to do anything with."

"…You're right."

She nods. "Besides, even if I don't get the internship, I still want to stay here with Rachel over the summer."

"Pussy whipped," Santana mutters under her breath. "Well this blows. I can't just go to Miami by myself. That's just lame."

Quinn leans back into their living room couch, eyes briefly wandering to the newspaper before finding Santana's again. "Have you ever thought about inviting Brittany? You know, your girlfriend?"

"Stop right there." Santana's eyes glaze over as she thinks of spending three months with the blonde in Florida. Brittany in nothing but a bikini all day, every day. Her pale skin bronzing over with a well formed tan after only a few days. How they could trash the hotel by having sex, order room service, have sex, go to the beach, have sex, eat dinner…then eat each other, go to bed and wake up to do it all over. "I think this is the best idea you have ever had," she whispers faintly.

Quinn snorts a laugh, reaching forward to retrieve the newspaper on the table and pulling out the classified ads. "You're welcome."

"Yeah, yeah. Gotta go. I gotta see if B's down with this." The door shuts behind her, leaving Quinn alone in the apartment.

She sighs quietly before sifting through the classified ads for a job. As much as she wants to have faith in her father, she doesn't. It came as a painful realization that the man that she had grown up with and looked up to as someone that would protect her and provide for her would leave her hanging high and dry. Quinn never likes to delve into her pre-adolescent days but she was very much a daddy's girl back then. Whenever she had scratches and bruises or a broken heart because her crush of the week didn't return her sentiments, her father was always there to kiss it better. But this doesn't seem like one of those times.

Her phone starts to ring and she breaks out of her nostalgia to answer it, 'Defying Gravity' blaring through the quiet apartment.

"Hey, baby," she says conversationally, cradling the phone between the crook of her neck and shoulder as she continues to search the newspaper.

"_Hello, Quinn. How is your day going?"_ Rachel chirps through the phone.

She smiles. "Much better now. How is yours?"

"_Busy, but wonderful. What are you doing a week from this Saturday?"_

She briefly ponders her schedule, mapping out days to figure out what she's doing on which day. "Nothing. Did you have something in mind?"

"_Possibly." _Quinn can hear the smile in her voice. _"Just save that particular date."_

"Rachel Berry, what do you have planned?"

"_Can't I just have a lovely evening with my beautiful girlfriend?"_

"You're pushing it." She blushes—as is her habit every time Rachel calls her beautiful.

"_Mhm. I'd love to chat more Quinn but I'm a horribly busy woman. Don't forget my rehearsal is—"_

"The eighteenth. I remember."

"_I love you. Enjoy the rest of your day if I regrettably lack the chance to see you."_

"You too. And you better find the time, Berry."

They exchange more goodbyes before Quinn finally hangs up. She basks in warmth in her heart a moment longer before scanning the newspaper again.

Her phone rings again and she growls a little before grabbing it off the table again. "Hello," she says a little tersely. Her eyes widen and she sputters apologies of being tired and worn out as Tom Reynolds greets her professionally.

She bites her lip, fearing the worst as he continues to talk to her. But something in particular catches her attention. "H –he did?" she whispers softly. "What did it say?" Tom lists off how her father sang her praises in the recommendation he wrote for her and Quinn feels her eyes prickle painfully with unshed tears. "Yes…that's all true, sir. I'm perfect for this position."

Gently dapping at her eye, she cradles the phone to her ear, her throat dry. "I get the job?" Her jaw drops. "Thank you, thank you, sir. You won't regret it. I'll start whenever you want me to."

They small chat on what will be expected of her and Tom promises to keep in touch of when he wants her to come in for a few training sessions before ending the call. Quinn doesn't waste any time. Overcome with childish glee for her father that she hasn't felt in a long time, her fingers quickly dial his number, impatiently waiting for him to answer.

His deep voice greets her and her eyes slip shut as a single tear slides down her cheek. "You wrote the recommendation. Thank you." He doesn't respond save for a sharp intake of breath and Quinn quietly hangs up the phone before the conversation has the chance to go sour.

* * *

Rachel almost wants to say her eyes are deceiving her. The lights, the cast, the directors, the stage hands. She's on the precipice of something great and she can only hope her amazing talent and wide vocal range, years of intensive training, and sheer determination pays off.

"Next."

She looks back toward Kurt and Mercedes. Mercedes gives her two thumbs up as Kurt winks and blows her a kiss. She smiles nervously before puffing out her chest and walking forward.

"Hello, I'm Rachel Berry. I'll be auditioning for the role of—"

"Yes, Rachel. You're the one William Schuester referred. I've heard a lot about you. I'm Stephen Kopel." He reaches across the table and extends his hand. It's taken into a firm shake, Rachel maintaining eye contact. "I can assure you that I have prepared day and night for this role. I hope to blow you away with my performance."

"Sounds great. Our Melchior, Jesse St. James, is already on stage. You can go meet and get acquainted with him and we'll begin in just a few short minutes, okay?"

"Yes, thank you." Her eyes float to the stage to find Jesse standing and looking down on her. She slowly walks towards him, on stage until their face to face. "You're Rachel Berry," is all he says.

"Y-yes." His shocking intensity catches her off guard, reminding her of a particular blonde and how blunt and intense she too can be. "And you're Jesse. It's a pleasure to meet you."

His nose lifts into the air as he takes two steps back to land on his mark. "I'll let you know after your performance if I can say the same."

Her eyes widen and she casts an anxious expression in Kurt and Mercedes' direction. Kurt snaps his fingers with a raised eyebrow as Mercedes folds her arms tightly across her chest, eyes narrowed. Their defensive stances are oddly encouraging and Rachel flashes a disarming smile before turning back to Jesse.

"Yes, well, do try to keep up, Jesse."

He blanches. "Are you insinuating that I can't?"

"I'm insinuating that it would be unfortunate for us both if you didn't."

He ruffles the curls in his hair and smiles roguishly down at her, his voice pitched low. "I like you. Do try to keep in touch if you don't get the part, Rachel. I'd love to take you out sometime."

"I have a girlfriend," she says confidently. The door to the theater swings open and her head whips around in time to see blonde hair. "In fact, she's here right now."

She quickly hops from the stage, smiling broadly as she walks up the aisles toward the door in the back of the theater. Brittany bounces in, Santana begrudgingly following behind. Rachel's smile dims, however, as she blinks one, twice, only to realize her eyes aren't deceiving her. Quinn isn't there.

Brittany continues to walk with Santana trailing behind, the shorter girl putting her hand up just as Rachel opens her mouth. "She had to work, Berry. She sends her apologies and also these." She flashes a bouquet of flowers in front of her that Rachel had been too preoccupied before with Quinn's absence to notice.

Rachel gingerly accepts the flowers, grinning from ear to ear as the sweet aroma assaults her senses. "Mercedes and Kurt are on the third row. You can sit beside them if you want." Santana groans and rolls her eyes but Brittany's already tugging her toward a pair of waving hands in the third row.

She walks back toward the stage, trying not to feel hurt. It isn't Quinn's fault that she couldn't make it and had Rachel not been pushing her towards the job, she wouldn't even have it. She wants Quinn to have the job and the experience and if that means that she has to miss the audition to make it happen then Rachel's willing to let it go.

She meets Jesse back on stage, already annoyed with the cocky smirk on his lips. "Where's this mystery girlfriend? Did she give you the flowers and dash? Not very supportive of her."

Rachel gently places the flowers off to the side as she walks toward Jesse. "Not that it's any of your business, but my girlfriend is _very _supportive, thank you very much. She had to work today, however, if she didn't then she would be sitting directly in the front row with her eyes glued to me."

"Guests can't sit on the front row during an audition," he quips.

She studiously ignores him as the casting director asks her to sing. She confidently belts out a powerful rendition of _Defying Gravity_, the one song that never fails to impress an audience. Once she's finished, Jesse is left wide eyed, Kurt, Mercedes, and Brittany clapping, Santana offering her a job well done, as the casting director joins in a round of applause.

"That was phenomenal," Jesse whispers from beside her. "I simply must date you. We can be an unstoppable Broadway pair, taking the world of theater by storm."

Rachel smiles a little. "Although, I'd love the idea of taking anything in the entertainment domain by storm, I have a girlfriend. _She _and _I _will take the world by storm. Thank you for your offer though."

They quickly move into two scenes of heavy dialogue, Rachel ranging from love to anger to despair within mere minutes. Her last scene finds her in Jesse's arms, a heated stare being exchanged between the two until the director yells cut. Her grip on his forearms slackens as she gently pries herself away. She fixes her slightly disheveled clothes, ignoring his leering eyes as she peers out into the crowd to see a familiar pair of hazel eyes.

Quinn is staring at her intently and Rachel's heart practically leaps out of her chest as she tries to maintain her composure. She smiles brightly at the blonde before hopping off stage.

"Well, Rachel," Stephen begins, "I have to say you have some real talent there. A natural."

"I couldn't agree more," Jesse says calmly, suddenly beside her.

"Unfortunately we have a lot of talented women out there that want the part."

"I want her to have it."

Stephen sends a pointed glare in Jesse's direction before turning to Rachel. "You're talented, great stage presence. And I like you. I can't guarantee the part, but I'll definitely be vying for you, kid. We'll keep in touch."

She nods in understanding, heart in her throat as she walks away and toward her friends. "Hey, wait up."

She turns around to find Jesse jogging up to her. "I think you deserve the part and I'll do everything in my power to get it for you."

Rachel holds the indelicate snort at bay, the idea of Jesse doing everything in 'his power' being ludicrous. "Thank you. It was a pleasure working with you Jesse."

"Same here." He purses his lips as he stares at her. "So I was thinking I'd still like to take you out for coffee."

Rachel opens her mouth, a retort on the tip of her tongue and then…her tongue is suddenly in Quinn's mouth. The blonde quickly spins her around and attaches their lips, her arms encircling Rachel's waist and drawing their bodies together tightly. It can only be described as a lover's embrace and Jesse is caught between a small sense of jealousy and an even bigger sense of arousal.

"Way to stake your claim, Q!" Santana calls proudly.

A tiny squeak dies in the back of Rachel's throat as Quinn's tongue pistons in and out of her mouth, fingers digging into her lower back. She's claiming her. And although Rachel thinks it horribly anti-feminist of her, she's getting weak in the knees, simply giving herself to the blonde as her body falls limp.

"Hi, baby," Quinn whispers against her lips as she pulls back. She sends Jesse a glare over Rachel's shoulder as the brunette comes to her senses. "Who's your friend?"

"What friend?" Rachel mutters as she slowly pulls back a little so she can think. Her mind clears slightly from her Quinn induced haze as the words register. "Oh, this is Jesse St. James. If I get the part then I'll be starring opposite him."

"When she gets the part," Jesse says confidently as he sticks his hand out.

Quinn arches an eyebrow. "That's something we can agree on." She shakes his hand firmly before pulling back. They stare each other down, Rachel twiddling her thumbs awkwardly between them.

"Yes, well, we should get going. I'll see you around, Jesse." She grabs the blonde's hand tightly. "Let's go, Quinn," she says quietly, knowing that if she doesn't diffuse the tension soon, Quinn hackles would easily rise.

They all walk down the aisle toward the exit. "Should I be jealous?" Quinn murmurs into her ear. Rachel shivers slightly at the blonde's low tone of voice and the implications of Quinn's jealous side.

She swallows thickly. "While I do find your jealously ironically arousing, it is unwarranted. Jesse is simply a potential co-worker."

"And what am I?" she asks, borderline cocky.

Rachel smiles sweetly. "You're my beautiful girlfriend."

"Sweet talker," she scoffs.

* * *

Rachel carefully lights the remaining candle on the table before blowing out the match. She walks past Mercedes and Kurt to dispose of it, her two friends placing two plates and sets of utensils on the table.

"You cooked her steak," Kurt realizes with a tilt of his head as the smell of beef hits his nostrils.

Rachel shudders, her nose twisting up. "And a slice of bacon," she grumbles. "That's just a testament to my love for that woman."

"So mushy," he gags as he and Mercedes finish tidying up.

"Anything else we can do?" Mercedes asks.

Rachel finishes with the last of the food before turning to face them. "Tell me to calm down," she whispers. "Tell me there's nothing to worry about. That she'll say yes. That we'll get married and that she'll always love me."

"I don't know." He smiles. "You're already crazy and I hear women only get crazier with menopause. You'll drive her crazy!"

"You're not helping!"

"Kurt, you remember when I told you you're not good at consoling people?" Mercedes, ever the mediator, calmly chimes in.

"I should shut up?"

"And go stand in a corner."

He huffs quietly, leaving the two alone to go sit in the living room. Rachel looks to Mercedes with a miserable expression. "Am I crazy?"

Mercedes bites her lip as she approaches Rachel. "Let's not talk about that. The real issue is your confidence, girl! You've had Quinn wrapped around your finger since day one. Nothing's changed." Rachel smiles at the idea of _anyone _having a controlling and domineering Quinn Fabray wrapped around their finger.

"She loves you. She was going to propose to you which means she's pretty much figured out what she wants. There's no reason for her to tell you no."

Rachel wraps Mercedes in a tight hug, silently thanking her. She walks her out into the living and to the door as the three of them exchange goodbyes. "You've got this in the bag, Rach. Or should I say you have a hot, blonde cheerleader in the bag," Kurt tells her, chuckling at her small blush before leaving.

She takes a deep breath as she leans back against the door, nervously biting her lip. She gives her apartment a once over to make sure everything is in place before walking back to her room to change. She shimmies slowly into a tight black dress—a dress that she wants to go on the record as saying it was so _not _her choice. Kurt and Mercedes made her sit on a bench outside a store in the mall as they scampered inside to pick out the perfect dress and shoes for her.

Her feet slide easily into a pair of stilettos. She wipes her sweaty palms on her dress, walking towards her mirror. She combs her fingers through her hair to add volume before swiping a thin coat of lip gloss across her lips. A knock at the door startles her and she drops the tube of lip gloss in her surprise. "I –I'll be out in just a minute!"

She rushes to the door, taking a minute to smooth down her hair and dress before opening it. Quinn stands on the other side, hands clasped almost demurely in front of her. Her hair is freshly curled, traveling in waves down her back and shoulders. She has on a yellow dress that stops just above the knee, wedged heels adorning her feet. "You look gorgeous," Rachel breathes, always in awe that the beautiful woman in front of her is all hers.

"And you," Quinn says as she walks into Rachel's apartment, "are stunning." Rachel's arms quickly wrap around Quinn's waist as the blonde steps into her personal space. Quinn runs her hand tentatively down Rachel's right cheek. "What is this all about?" she whispers, her eyes flitting around the dimly lit apartment. "Are you trying to seduce me?"

Rachel giggles quietly, leaning up to lightly kiss her on the lips. "Can't I just have a lovely evening with my beautiful girlfriend?" she asks, echoing her words from the week prior.

Quinn arches a powerful eyebrow. "You're plotting something."

"I wouldn't be the only one."

"What do you mean?"

Rachel pulls away, tugging Quinn's hand as she ventures toward the kitchen. "I mean that I've prepared a lovely dinner for you and we're going to enjoy it."

Quinn licks her lips. "I smell meat."

Rachel grimaces. "You smell steak. And bacon."

They walk into the kitchen and Quinn walks toward the counter, a slap of steak and a slice of bacon set out for her. "Rachel." She turns toward her, pulling her into a tight hug. "Thank you. You didn't have to that for me. Although I'm glad you did."

Rachel quickly learned that if it was one thing Quinn didn't play with—although there are many things she didn't play with—it was her food. She took it very seriously, Rachel even being willing to go as far as to say that she has an unhealthy obsession with bacon.

Quinn leans over the food. "Can I eat now?"

She swats the blonde's hand away, kissing the pout off her face. "I'll fix your plate. You go sit."

She watches Quinn's jaw work, knowing it's taking everything the blonde has to follow instructions without some type of retort. Finally, she walks away to the table and Rachel smiles secretively as she turns around.

A plate of steak and a sliver of bacon are sat directly in front of Quinn. Rachel cringes as the blonde licks her lips. "Thanks, Rach, really."

She beams down at her girlfriend. "Anything for you, sweetheart."

They eat silently, Quinn immersed in her food. If she had taken a second to actually breathe and look up she would have noticed Rachel's anxious expression. But she didn't. Rachel's getting nervous. She slows her eating to stall the inevitable, suddenly not ready to propose to Quinn, the goddess among all that she has in her kitchen. She feels so…high school. The awkward teenager that was always dateless on Friday nights sharing a meal with Quinn Fabray who she's sure not only had dates but _options._

"Something wrong?"

She snaps out of her thoughts at Quinn's soft voice. She isn't in high school anymore. There's no such thing as a 'popular kid' and a 'loser' in the real world and certainly not in her apartment. She's just Rachel, having dinner with Quinn. _Proposing _to Quinn. "F –fine," she stammers out. She takes a deep breath, leans down to pick up a small box by her chair leg she had put there to hide from Quinn and rises out of her seat, smoothing out her dress where it had ridden up.

Quinn continues to stare, bewildered. "Rachel?" She looks a little lost, a little confused and Rachel smiles nervously as she walks over to the blonde. She smoothes the back of her dress and sits in Quinn's lap, the blonde's arms instinctively circling her waist. "Are you okay?" she asks as if she's talking to a small child.

"No," Rachel admits. She bites her bottom lip. "I'm nervous."

"Why would you be…" she trails off, her eyes had been searching Rachel's entire body for any sign as to what could be wrong. They finally land on the small black box Rachel's grasping tightly in her hands. "Oh…" She swallows thickly. "Is –is that—"

Rachel nods.

Quinn's breathing picks up as her arms unconsciously wrap tighter around Rachel. "And you're—"

She nods again.

"But I was going to—"

"I know," Rachel says softly. They lock eyes, finally. Tears sting Rachel's eyes as she watches the way Quinn's lips tremble, the only indication that she's being affected by their conversation. Rachel leans forward to press their lips together, Quinn's quivering lips parting to accept the slippery invitation of Rachel's tongue.

They pull back, a single tear dripping down Rachel's face and Quinn doesn't move to wipe it away, marveling at how beautiful she looks.

Rachel looks down at the box in her hand, feeling emboldened by the fact that Quinn _knows _what's about to happen and isn't pushing her off or running away. She feels silly and a bit ashamed for even thinking so considering it was Quinn that was going to propose in the first place.

She opens the box, retrieving two small bands from inside. They're simple, golden bands without fancy engravings or stones littering them but Quinn gasps in astonishment anyway and Rachel smiles a little before clasping her fingers around both of them tightly, looking back up to meet hazel eyes.

"My fathers dated all throughout high school before college pulled them in different directions," she says slowly. "They snuck out to meet each other one summer night and daddy gave this to dad. It's a promise ring. And it may seem silly and we may seem too old now for such things but...I want to give this to you on the basis that I will uphold all of my promises to you today, tomorrow, when we get married and well beyond that."

Quinn's eyes mist over and she attempts to bury her face in Rachel's shoulder to hide it. Rachel smiles a little, kisses the side of Quinn's head and shrugs her shoulder a little. "Hey," she says softly. "Look at me." Quinn pulls back, mouth slightly parted to take in shuddery breaths as Rachel smiles down at her.

"I promised my fathers that I will be true to myself as well as true to you. No more secrets. I promised your mother that I would be here for you to love you and protect you from yourself," Quinn laughs a little at that, "for as long as you'll have me. And I promise you, Quinn, I _swear _to always love you unconditionally."

She leans forward to kiss away Quinn's tears, ignoring her own. Quinn's hands span the length of her back, crushing their bodies together with bruising force. "I love you," she whispers into Rachel's neck.

"And I love you. So much." She opens her hand to place a ring in Quinn's right hand. She grabs her left one, palm down and brings it closer, leaning forward to rest their foreheads against each other.

Rachel's quiet for a moment, listening to Quinn's uneven breathing and occasional hiccupping breaths as if it were a song. She positions the band by Quinn's ring finger before gently sliding it on. "I promise to love you forever," she whispers. Quinn leans forward, kissing her hard before pulling back.

Her hand shakes as she grasps Rachel's softly. She slides the ring onto her finger. "I promise to love you forever," she whispers back just as fiercely before kissing her again. The box drops from Rachel's lap as her arms wrap around Quinn's neck to place them breast to breast, heart to heart. They pull back after long minutes, just needing to hold each other. They take one look at each other and giggle quietly.

"We're a mess," Rachel concedes.

"Yeah, well you _make _me a mess," Quinn grumbles.

Rachel smiles. "I can live with that."

Quinn looks down at the golden band on her finger, a million thoughts and emotions flowing through her. She never thought she'd get married. "Thank you, Rachel. I –I was going to propose to you later on next week. This is crazy."

Rachel fidgets in her lap. "About that..."

Quinn quirks an eyebrow, remembering their conversation a few minutes prior and how Rachel said she knew she was going to propose. "You knew? I could kill Kurt and Mercedes right now. Your friends suck at keeping a secret."

"Quinn, you know how I feel about murder," Rachel says distractedly. "Besides, it doesn't matter, these are just promise rings for now because I want to get you an even bigger ring. Although," she ducks her head a little to lock eyes with the blonde, "I do want to marry you someday, Quinn. And when that time does come, I'll propose."

"I want to propose," Quinn grumbles.

"I'll propose," Rachel reiterates. The only way she can ensure that her proposal and marriage are romantic enough to be worthy of her Broadway stardom is if she gets to plan and coordinate the whole thing. "But for now I want you to wear this promise ring."

Quinn barely hears her, engrossed in the ring on her finger. "You got these resized?" she asks absentmindedly, not even listening to Rachel's answer. "Your father has great taste."

Rachel blushes a little. "I'm sorry it couldn't be more extravagant but you see when I officially propose—"

"Don't you dare apologize," Quinn says sharply. "I love this and I'll wear it proudly."

Her heart leaps out of her chest. She's practically drunk off her love for Quinn. Just the thought of Quinn wearing the ring she gave her, the very ring being a warning for all women and men to back off.

_Mine_, she thinks deliriously as she leans forward to kiss Quinn for the hundredth time. "I'm going to be such a good wife!" she gushes when she pulls back.

Quinn rolls her eyes, pinching Rachel in the side. "Only you would compliment yourself and not the person you're marrying."

Rachel looks down at her with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, baby. You're going to be a phenomenal wife. You're already so domestic."

"Suck up." Her telling blush belies her comment.

Rachel doesn't respond and things quiet between them. Quinn grips the back of Rachel's dress harder as Rachel's eyes fall to Quinn's lips. "You're mine now," Quinn says softly.

"Was I not yours the day we bumped into each other?" Rachel asks quietly.

Quinn smirks. "You didn't want to be. But you were."

"I am."

The air between them becomes thick with tension as Quinn's eyes slowly begin to dilate. Rachel licks her lips as she rises from Quinn's lap. She grabs both of their dishes from the table, swaying her hips as saunters to the kitchen sink. "I hear animals in the wild like to claim their mates."

Quinn stands from her seat. "You calling me an animal, Berry?"

A small smile touches her lips as she bypasses the blonde, walking toward her bedroom. "I'm calling myself your mate." She walks into her bedroom and Quinn is hot on her heels, fingers already tugging at the zipper of her dress.

* * *

"I'd like to make a toast!"

Quinn groans. "The last time she made a toast she was drunk off her ass."

"Quiet, blondie," Santana growls. "This toast is also your wedding gift."

Aghast, Rachel leans forward from her position beside Quinn on the sofa. "Quinn and I are not getting married for at least another two years, Santana. That should be plenty to time for you to penny pinch and scrape money together to get us a _decent_—"

"Berry," she bites out.

"Let it go, baby," Quinn whispers in her ear, rubbing her back in gentle circles, knowing that if those two started arguing no one else would get a word in the whole night.

"Anyway," Santana continues with a smile. "A toast to Q and Berry! I don't even know who wrestled who into submission with the two of you."

"I bet Rachel got Quinn to submit. Her thighs are super hot so she probably did a wrestling move and wrapped them around Quinn's head until she tapped out."

Quinn colors from the tips of her head to her neck as Rachel keeps a stiff upper lip, though her blush isn't much better. On the other side of the room, Mercedes looks visibly uncomfortable and Kurt looks around for his man bag in an attempt to make a quick exit.

Santana winks in Brittany's direction. "I bet you're right, B." She looks over to Quinn, Rachel whispering in her ear to breathe so the blonde doesn't pass out. "You two seem like a match made in weird hell but you somehow made it work. Oh and, Berry?"

Rachel looks over at Santana's grave expression. "My threat still stands. That's my best friend and whether you're her girlfriend or her wife I'll kick your ass if you hurt her. Again."

"Santana," Quinn warns but Rachel grips her arm with a disarming smile.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Santana."

"Hold on one damn minute!" Mercedes chimes in. "The same goes for Quinn. She better not harm my girl, Rachel." Kurt nods.

"I'd never," Quinn says determinedly as her piercing gaze levels on Mercedes and Kurt.

Santana nods. "Good. Now that everyone's been properly threatened, I give my blessing. I look forward to attending your hot damn mess of a wedding!"

Everyone brings their glass of wine to their lips after their toast except Rachel. "It will be a perfectly organized, well thought out and executed wedding with extravagant—"

"We'll probably have to be on a budget, baby," Quinn tells her as she leans over to place a placating kiss to Rachel's cheek.

"No Barbra?" she asks with a pout.

"Nonsense, I can make it work!" Kurt flits to the front of the room. "I put together my father's wedding with six hundred dollars, a _Donna Karan _catalog and an unfortunate twenty dollar _Nike _gift card." He shudders at the memory.

"And it was off the chain," Mercedes supplies.

Quinn grabs her glass and a nearby spoon to bang the two together. "I'd like to make a toast too." She stands up to head to the front of the room while she has everyone's attention. "As of this morning, Rachel is the new Wendla in _Spring Awakening_."

Rachel smiles broadly as everyone around the room congratulates her. Things quiet down and Quinn continues. "I would wish you luck on all of your shows but you're already such a star, you don't need it. So instead, I'm going to wish Jesse luck because if he comes on to you one more time I'm going to kick his ass."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Correction. She's going to mope around and come whining to me about it and _I'm _going to kick his ass."

"Shut up." She turns back to Rachel. "And lastly, at the expense of sounding mushy; I love you."

Rachel can barely contain herself as Quinn walks back to sit beside her. She flings herself into the blonde's arms, peppering her face with kisses. "I love you."

Brittany smiles, eyes shining at all the talk about love and weddings going on. She leans over to wrap Santana in a big hug. "I can't wait 'til we get married, San!"

Santana pats her back gently. "Someday, B."

She gasps, pulling back to look her in the eye. "Did you just propose?"

Santana looks back, wide eyed. "Uh, B, I was just saying—"

"Sounded like a proposal to me," Quinn replies with a smirk. "What do you think, Rach?"

"Though it lacked eloquence and grace I would also be inclined to believe it was a proposal."

"Two weddings," Kurt mumbles to himself. "My greatest challenge yet."

She looks around, from Quinn to Rachel, Kurt to Mercedes, then back to Brittany, a telling blush coloring her cheeks. Brittany squeals and pulls Santana closer before crawling in her lap. "I love you, San."

"Love you too, B."

They engage in a kiss that's far from innocent and—not to be outdone—Quinn grabs Rachel by the waist, drags her unofficial but really, _really _official fiancée into her lap for a languid kiss that makes the two remaining occupants in the room blush and look away.

"We should just—"

"Yeah, the exit is this way," Mercedes rushes out as the two leave.

Quinn is off the couch, running to her room with Rachel in tow, pinning her against the door once it closes. "My fiancée," she breathes against Rachel's neck.

Rachel smiles, yanking Quinn by her hair to bring them back to face. "_My _fiancée."

They both flinch when the very distinct sound of a lamp is heard crashing down to the floor and shattering in the living room, followed by a loud moan.

Rachel blushes. "Should we...?"

"Your apartment," Quinn agrees as she grabs a light jacket. She clasps her hand in Rachel's, smiling as the ring on her finger catches the sunlight from her window and glitters brilliantly. _Just like Rachel_, she thinks faintly. A shining star.


End file.
